The Lady and the Sea
by auAVERY
Summary: CaptainSwan!AU. Emma, a bartender at a small establishment in Camden, Maine, lives with the belief that Neal will return to her side. But when a stranger walks in one day and takes her by surprise, she starts to wonder if it's better to live in the here and now than to cling to the hope of regaining what she had ten years ago. Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot arc *pouts*
1. Chapter 1

The front door swung open, bringing with it a chill like few others—one distinctly northeastern. Utterly freezing, that same wind carried with it the salt of the sea. Somehow, years later, Emma wasn't tired of it. This time, she glanced up to see if it was one of her regulars. She was only washing out glasses, as it was still early in the evening, so it was easier to prepare a friendly greeting than usual. Small town or not, the people of Camden, Maine, seemed to love visiting the Bell Curve.

Located on Atlantic Avenue, where the docks stopped and the land turned back around towards the ocean, the bar's name seemed fitting. Out the front windows, at least before the sun went down, she could watch the tilting, rocking motion of the sailboats tied to each pier or drifting out into Penobscot Bay. Her attention didn't snag on those boats today, though. No, something far more interesting made her hands pause, left to soak in the soapy water alongside the wine glass she'd been shining.

Something? More like someone. He was clearly interesting enough to halt her completely in her tracks, but Emma couldn't explain why. He was obscenely attractive, she determined, but by the time she started trying to work out what, exactly, had stopped her—

"Emma?"

The blonde sucked in a surprised breath, dropping the glass against the others in the sink, whipping her head around to look at her best friend. "What?"

Ruby tilted her head, squinting at the other bartender. "It isn't polite to stare. Not even at new strangers, gorgeous though they may be."

Her voice had dropped towards the end of her half-teasing, half-chiding comment. It wasn't until a throat cleared in front of her that Emma understood why. The stranger had sat down directly across the bar from her, and had one eyebrow lifted as he watched her. What was that look about?

"You alright, there, love?"

 _Oh, God._

That was just unfair. Someone that looked like him did not need the added benefit of a sexy, foreign accent. It almost made her angry, in fact. Her fingers lifted absentmindedly, reaching for the chain around her neck. But then she remembered that they were sudsy and would absolutely soak the front of her shirt. That wouldn't do at all. Instead, she aimed for the towel she had slung over her shoulder before finally offering a smile as she dried them off.

"I'm fine," she assured him, glad to see that eyebrow of his drop down to match the other once more. "I've just been distracted today, I think."

He nodded in understanding, the corner of his mouth lifting. The sudden, desperate need to see a full smile on his face caught her off guard and she glanced down at the sink again, wondering if she could bear to stand there and keep washing them with this Irishman right in front of her. Probably not.

She drained the water.

"Emma!" Leroy called from the other end of the bar, clearly impatient even though he'd yet to ask her for anything.

"Hold on," she told him, frowning slightly. Emma turned her eyes back on the new man, gesturing towards the rows of liquor and wine behind her. "What'll you have?"

"Rum," he answered immediately. "Straight."

She nodded, rather unsurprised. They went through rum like the local restaurants went through soda in the summer. Or, any time of year, really. Perhaps he was another of the ones who came for the harbor and the sailing. Emma picked up a short, squat glass, then picked up the bottle of Spiced Morgan, wiggling it a little until he smiled, actually chuckled a little, and said, "That's perfect."

Once that was poured and placed in front of him, she passed him another smile and walked down to talk to Leroy, pretending that she didn't feel the stranger's eyes on her the entire way down the bar.

* * *

By the time night properly fell and the bar had taken on the crowd she so often expected, Emma was starting to feel a bit concerned. Pouring drinks as quickly and efficiently as she could, she did her best to interact with her customers despite being so distracted. Their newcomer had been sat in the same spot for the past several hours, only getting up when he was assured his seat would be held for him by another patron, when he needed the bathroom. But that was a while ago, and although he was clearly doing just fine, she was a bit surprised by how much rum he had taken in over the past few hours.

When she finally came across a lull, she moved to stand across from him once more, wiping off the bar top before leaning her elbows on the teak wood. "You still doing okay?"

"Aye," he confirmed, lifting his half-full glass for her to see.

Emma never really had trouble making small-talk with the people that came in, even when someone was from out of town. But he was just so… God, she didn't know. It was rare for her to even consider whether or not someone was good-looking. She didn't need to worry about that, even with how many made passes at her. Emma knew most of them were in jest, and those that weren't were easy to pass up. But now she just nodded at him, standing up straight again and glancing around for empty glasses she could pick up.

"So. Emma. Have you lived here your whole life?" He lifted his glass to his lips again, observing her over the rim as he did so. "It seems like a small enough town that people might do so."

She shook her head, glad for something easy. Talking about herself wasn't exactly a favorite pastime of hers, but maybe it would open up the floor for her to ask him questions in return. "No, I moved a few years ago. My parents live here now, and I thought I'd like to be near them. But you're right. There's only about five thousand people here, I think. Don't hold me to that, though."

He smiled, but Emma was still sure that it wasn't a completely genuine one. He struck her as someone who hadn't had much cause, at least recently, to really, truly smile. It was like he'd forgotten how to grin. Although, to be fair, she hadn't exactly said or done anything to earn such an expression.

"I'm sure they appreciate having you close," he replied.

"You're from Ireland?" she asked, shooting a glance down the bar to her left in case she'd missed an attempt at her attention. Thankfully, Ruby was at the end nearest to the door, taking care of that.

"Aye, indeed. Galway area, most recently. But I'm really from all over, I suppose. The navy makes it hard to really set down roots."

Emma's eyebrows lifted, though somehow she wasn't as surprised as she perhaps should have been. He was blatantly fit, beyond just that face and the scruff and – _God_ – those eyes. But as he gestured with his right hand, she found herself looking down to try and see what he was pointing at.

"What does that say?"

Confused, she lifted a hand to her neck, only to find the silver linked chain she'd grown so used to. For a moment, there, she'd forgotten she even had it. "Oh," she laughed, taking up the locket in her palm and turning it for him to read. "My, um, my ex gave me this." Engraved into the silver was Neal's name, and the inside was designed to hold a picture, probably of him. In truth, she knew she should have filled it after the last one was ruined when she dropped it in the sink and the picture got wet. But somehow she just couldn't bring herself to do it. "He's… It's been a long time since I've seen him."

"And yet you wear it," he pointed out, clearly curious.

"Yes, well-" Emma blushed deeply, only to be cut off.

The stranger sat up a little straighter. "You love him."

She lifted a shoulder gently, letting her head list to one side. "Something like that."

He didn't seem to like that answer, or maybe he didn't understand it, but Emma didn't have time to explain. A tall man with hair nearly as dark as her new acquaintance's had arrived next to Mr. Navy (as she immediately named him for lack of a better thing to use), and grinned at her cheekily.

"Emma, love. Do us a favor and pour another round for me and the guys?"

She flicked her gaze towards the rest of Robin's cohorts, then passed Locksley an unimpressed look. "You can't be serious. At this rate, we'll just be cleaning up the mess they make when they knock the pints over."

"I'll make it worth your while," he promised, winking at her. Emma pretended not to notice the way the stranger frowned, glancing up at the man beside him. "And besides, if you say no, I can just ask Ruby instead."

He wasn't wrong, as frustrating as that was. Realizing she still had the locket in her hand, Emma dropped it into the front of her shirt after turning away with a huff to take down five more pint glasses and fill them for Robin and his men. Behind her, she heard the men talking.

"I haven't seen you before, have I? Name's Robin."

"Killian," the stranger returned, accent thicker in comparison to Robin's own. After moving to Maine as a young boy, Robin's had started to fade, but it was clear they were both from the U.K. "London?" Killian asked.

"Ironically, Camden. But technically, you're right."

Emma turned around, setting three of the mugs down and passing Robin a confused look.

"It's a borough in London," he explained, curling his fingers around the handles before Emma offered the other two for him to take with his other hand. "Give this bloke a drink on me," Robin added with a laugh, forcing a heavier British accent before walking away.

Emma shook her head but smiled fondly after him. But then she turned back to Killian and found that he was observing her again with those fiercely blue eyes of his. They froze her to the spot, and she blinked at him a couple of times before finally speaking up. "Something wrong?"

Killian shook his head immediately, downing the last of his rum and setting the glass back down. By the time he'd done so, a smirk was curving his lips and if Emma hadn't been so stubbornly determined to wait for Neal, she might have admitted to melting a little bit just by looking at it. "No, I was just going to take Robin up on that drink. Provided it's not a come-on, that is."

Emma laughed outright at that, but was already moving his empty glass out of the way to replace it. "No, no. I mean, it might be," she mused, however sarcastically, "but I don't think his wife would appreciate it much. Regina's not known to share."

"Ah. Shame, considering how he tries so hard to make you blush."

Embarrassingly enough, it was that sentence that finally brought real color to the blonde's cheeks.

Killian leaned forward on the bar, ignoring the drink she set in front of him. "How long has it been since you've seen this Neal bloke? If you're holding onto that so carefully," he waved a hand towards the now-hidden chain around her neck, "then he must have been quite something."

"Why?" she countered immediately, both baffled by his curiosity and also innately designed to guard herself from those who tried to pry. "Jealous?"

Okay, so that wasn't the best retort she could have come up with. She was _not_ trying to flirt with Killian Whatever-His-Last-Name-Was, handsome as sin or otherwise. But the amused grin that finally lit up his face was enough to make her think that maybe it was worth it, Neal or not. A decade was long enough to wait, wasn't it? Who could really blame her for not holding out? It wasn't like this meant anything anyway. Sailors like him came and went in a week or less.

"Very."

Emma's mouth fell open as he downed the shot in one go, dropped the glass back onto the bar, and reached into his wallet to withdraw what he owed. She was still staring openly when he stood, donned his jacket, and turned his sharp chin to look at her.

"Have a good evening, Emma."

And, though she would vehemently deny it despite Ruby catching her doing so, she was still staring by the time the breeze rolled back in and the door shut behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you all so much for the positive response I've received based on the first chapter! You've all been so sweet! I've had some trouble accessing the reviews, but I'm trying to sort it out. I get emails for them but it's being all fussy! :( Hopefully I'll be able to reply to each of them individually once I figure out what it's up to.**

* * *

"Emma, this is the third time this week. Surely you can't keep denying it."

Ruby, unfortunately, had yet to let up about the new Irish sailor. Killian. The one Emma had accidentally been thinking about for days. So as the two girls hovered at one end of the bar, Emma setting a number of full glasses on the black tray Ruby was about to carry across the room, they both snuck glances over at him.

"Why it weird?" Emma shot back, pretending to be more confused than she really was. "Lots of people come in every day. Leroy, for example."

A scoff escaped between Ruby's lips and Emma frowned in return. "Sure. But he's not the one sending smoldering looks your direction all night."

Fidgeting, Emma set the last glass down. "I told him about Neal."

Ruby's eyes widened dramatically as she reached a hand out for her friend's arm. "All of it?"

"No, of course not. I don't know him nearly well enough for that."

"Good."

Both women pursed their lips, unintentionally mirroring each other. But then Ruby sighed, carefully lifting the tray onto one hand and the matching shoulder. "Well. Maybe you should _get_ to know him that well. He clearly wants to know you."

And then she was off, leaving Emma behind to wonder if her friend was crazy or onto something. A round of raucous cheers went up as a table's drinks arrived, making her jump and look down towards Killian. He had turned to look at the loud group but as he swung his attention back around, his eyes caught on hers and he smiled a little. Nodded his head. Emma swallowed roughly, but lifted her hand in a wave that probably looked completely stupid.

Great.

She walked over to greet him properly, leaning one hand on the bar and setting the other on her hip just above the waistline of her trousers. "Hello, Killian. I'm amazed you're braving the cold to come by again. Turns out you showed up at just the wrong time; winter here is a bitch."

He chuckled, and if he was surprised by her coarser language, he didn't show it. "I thought about waiting until the new year, but I hear it just gets worse in January, so I figured I may as well get used to it, right? This place must be beautiful at Christmas."

Emma nodded, more than happy to discuss her favorite holiday. "It really is. Just wait a couple weeks. I see a lot of lights on my way home already, but once winter break hits for the schools people go all out. Rum?" She gestured with her thumb towards the bottles behind her.

"What do you drink?"

"Depends," she shrugged. "If Ruby's buying, she goes full mixed drinks. Sex on the beach, or whisky sours. But I don't mind drinking whisky straight, myself."

Killian seemed to consider this then leaned forward on his arms, right over left. "Well, pour me your favorite and I'll give it a go. Maybe not that first one, though. It sounds a bit… frilly."

Emma's surprise brought out a laugh as she turned to pull down her favorite label. She grinned over her shoulder at him as she started pouring him a shot to start with. "It is. So full of juice you can hardly taste the alcohol. But it can knock people under the table faster than you would expect, for that very reason."

"It's been quite some time since I've wanted to get pissed," he mused, reaching out to take the glass from her. He lifted it, seemed to pause to see what it smelled like, and then took a sip. Emma could practically see him rolling it across his tongue, even with his lips pressed together. Killian smiled a little, knocking back the rest of the shot before passing the glass back to her. He winced a little, shaking his head. "There's something odd about that."

"I can't believe you've never had whisky before. You're Irish, isn't that, like, a sin or something?"

His eyebrow lifted in obvious amusement. "You'd think so. I have indeed tried it before. A long, long time ago. Rum was the only staple on our ship, and I got my tastes from my family. Maybe rum just runs in our veins."

Emma smiled more widely at that, but reached for the spiced brand he liked once more, preparing him a couple of fingers. "Perhaps. If that's how favorite things work, then _my_ veins are full of hot chocolate."

Killian's brow furrowed and her smile faltered a little. How was such a simple gesture so endearing? She would've called it _cute_ if she didn't think he'd disapprove. Besides, that wasn't a word that really fit the sailor, no matter his expression. "Somehow," he told her, "that makes perfect sense."

Emma felt her cheeks pink a little under his gaze. "Well, my—my mom, she always made it and I guess I got attached."

Killian hummed a little, but she hardly heard it over the music filling the room and the voices down the way that called her away once a moment of silence fell between the two of them. And although she did her best to continue checking in on him, it was one of those hectic Friday nights when people decided that alcohol would warm them better than their fireplaces. That, or they were bored, which Emma supposed was fair enough.

As the end of the night came around, though, and they announced last call, Emma started cleaning off tables and bringing glasses back behind the bar. But then she realized about halfway through cleaning one that Ruby was standing right behind her. "Oh my _God_ , Ruby!" She gasped, jumping to turn at look at the brunette. "What are you doing?"

Backing up a step, Ruby rolled her eyes. "You weren't listening. I was trying to tell you that someone's waiting on you."

"What?" Emma deadpanned. "We're closed."

"Yeah. That's why they're outside."

"That… is supremely creepy."

Ruby shook her head emphatically, hair flying as she did so. "No, you don't understand. Killian asked—"

" _He's_ the one waiting outside? What the hell?"

"Emma, listen!" Ruby threw her hands up, practically whining. "He asked if it was safe for us to walk home this late. Said you'd talked about how you walk by all those lights on Elm. Well, he didn't say Elm. But I knew that's what you meant. Anyway, he said he was going to sit out by the docks for a bit before heading home. So, whether he meant it like that or not, it could be argued that he's waiting. And if you wanted to go outside, we could say he'd been waiting for you."

Emma frowned deeply. "So either he's a weirdo, or he just likes boats. Neither of those things should have to do with me. Especially not the first one."

Ruby fell quiet at that, recognizing the problem, finally, for what it was. "This is about that guy, isn't it? Walsh?"

"Obviously," she muttered, stacking plain glasses in the freezer so they would be chilled for draft beers the next night. "I really don't need to relive the whole stalking thing. I know it's been years but still. This guy doesn't even hold a grudge, so what's the point in Killian being all weird?" Because really, she wasn't about to play some game with another guy who didn't understand boundaries. That was why she'd quit working as a bail bondsperson, after all. Because when one of her targets was caught and then released, he'd come after her and she realized she was just too tired of that life to keep doing it.

So up to Maine she went, leaving Boston and those troubles behind. At least this town was small enough to nobody would ever think to look for her there.

"I really don't think he meant anything by it. I asked how far he had to go to get home and he said it wasn't far at all. That he just thought he'd take his time and watch the ocean for a while. I'm just saying, maybe you should go talk to him. Y'know, without a million drink orders getting in the way."

And somehow, with Ruby looking so ashamed at misrepresenting the whole situation, Emma found that she couldn't stay angry about it. Clearly, it had nothing to do with her at all. He'd been in the royal navy, so it wasn't like she had any reason to be surprised by his love of the water.

Still, she lingered, uncomfortable with even the idea of him waiting just for her, and by the time she made it outside in her heavy winter coat, he was nowhere to be found.

Emma wasn't sure if she was disappointed or not, but as she wandered down Elm towards her apartment, she indeed spent the walk taking in the strings of lights that had been strung across the road from lamppost to lamppost. When she reached her building, she fumbled with the key in her gloved hands, and let herself in. Immediately, she stopped short as something crashed into her.

"Henry!" She gasped, hands falling to his shoulders as he threw his arms around her middle. "What are you doing up, kid?"

He turned and pointed to the couch, where her parents had fallen asleep in front of the television. "We were watching _Snow White_ ," he explained. "Her voice is really annoying, though, so after they fell asleep I changed it to _Aladdin_."

"You do realize it's about a lying thief, right?" Emma asked, fully aware of the irony. "I used to hunt those guys for a living."

Henry shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. He hadn't seen her during that time, so she decided it could be forgiven. One day she would be able to tell him the more, well, inappropriate stories without fearing that she was doing something wrong. Then again, she doubted he would be too thrilled with hearing about the false dates she set up in order to lure the bail skippers out.

"Too much sugar? Why aren't you tired?"

"I don't know. But it's Friday! You said I don't have to go to bed early on Fridays," he pointed out.

Emma stared at him, shaking her head. "It's two in the morning! Go brush your teeth, kid. We're gonna make them breakfast tomorrow for this."

Although he sighed heavily, she knew better than to think he actually minded. Henry always seemed amused by sitting in the kitchen with her, even if he had to help make the meal in question. So as he walked down the hall towards the bathroom, Emma sat down on the arm of her couch, gently shaking her father awake. And by the time Henry got up the next morning, his grandparents were asleep in Emma's room, and his mom was curled up on the couch beneath several blankets to fight off the cold that liked to seep through the window behind it.

She, however, woke to a steaming mug of hot chocolate, and her parents making breakfast with her son. And despite every worry and disappointment she had faced in the past ten years, she couldn't have been happier with where she'd ended up.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So, so glad that the reviews started showing up! Time for some more info about Killian and Neal, I think. ;)**

* * *

Emma still didn't understand why Henry wanted to do the tour. He was nearly ten years old, and he wanted to do this _now_? She wouldn't pretend to get what went on in his head, but she could easily see that it made him happy to be there.

On the other hand, of course, it horrified her that he was so interested in boats and sailing. She didn't need him to share that interest with his father, considering what happened with Neal. While she didn't want to denounce his first quite serious interest beyond Disney movies and helping her cook, she was afraid to give this one much support. So Emma supposed she could concede to the fact that she looked pretty pissed off the entire time.

It also didn't help that, as they turned a corner, she ran smack into Killian.

"Apologies-" he began, just as Emma gasped out her own, "Oh! I'm sorry-"

And then they basically just stared at each other until Henry finally went, "Uh, Mom?"

Emma started, looking down at him as her hand reached out to his shoulder. How utterly and supremely awkward. "Um. Henry, this is my- friend. Killian," she explained. Somehow, she was bizarrely proud when her boy extended a hand without hesitation, ready for the formal introduction. At least she didn't look entirely incompetent in front of Killian. Not that it mattered. Obviously. That would be ridiculous.

"Ah," Killian began, extending his right hand even as his left slid into his trouser pocket. "'Ello, lad." And as Emma started to wonder if she'd ever seen him use his left hand, he passed her a look that clearly portrayed his surprise at her having a son. As if she should have mentioned that to him? She frowned a little. Killian turned back to Henry, asking, "Are you two here for the tour, then?"

"Yep," Henry confirmed, nodding firmly. "Since Mom worked all week, it was my turn to pick."

Emma pursed her lips, but couldn't help herself. "I worked extra this week so we can go out for your birthday. No complaining." Of course, as soon as he looked up at her and grinned, she was cracking a smile, too. When she lifted her gaze back to Killian, he was watching her with a sort of funny, fond expression on his face. But as soon as they made eye contact, he tore his attention away and back to Henry.

"Well. Why don't I lead you through the rest of it myself? Those little signs certainly don't tell the whole story."

"You- you work here?" Emma asked, glancing around at the factory. "I thought you were in the navy."

"I was," he confirmed. "But I was granted early leave, and used my fifteen years there to gain a work visa. I'm learning the actual shipbuilding side, rather than just manning the ship and performing the usual onboard duties. I may return someday, but.." He shrugged, rubbing at the spot behind his ear almost awkwardly. "I haven't quite decided."

Henry tilted his head a little. "You didn't like it?"

Killian smiled a little but shook his head. "No, I did. But I needed a change. And, luckily, my superiors understood why."

Emma may have been thoroughly confused, but suddenly his repeated appearances at the bar made so much more sense. The shipbuilding factory was also located along the curve of the docks, not one minute's walking distance from where she and Ruby worked. Equally, that whole watching the water thing seemed vastly less strange, though she's already known about the royal navy's part in his history. But as Henry led the way with obvious enthusiasm, Killian shot her a look that suggested there was far more to the story than just getting bored, and Emma wasn't at all convinced he meant to do it.

It wasn't long before she found herself walking alongside him as Henry pointed at things ahead of them, asking questions over his shoulder about the different types of rigging, sails, and hull lengths. Killian seemed more than happy to explain it all, and Emma couldn't bring herself to say anything at all. How predictable. The one man who had caught her attention in a decade _would_ also be so thoroughly entrenched in the career that had ruined everything with Neal.

Her fingers unconsciously reached up to the locket hanging from her neck, and she wondered somewhere in the back corners of her mind whether or not she would simply wake up one morning and forget to put it on. Was that how this sort of thing went? Forgetting? Emma didn't want to believe that people could be so simply lost to time, because if that were true, then what did that mean about Neal and his stance on her and their son? On any of it? Even his father still lived in Camden, yet Mr. Gold had yet to hear from his son, either, as far as she knew.

What a mess. What an absolute-

"What?" She asked sharply, turning to look at Killian as his hand found that spot just above her elbow, catching her off guard.

He looked terribly concerned, and she realized immediately that the concern was for her. "Are you feeling unwell?"

Emma swallowed roughly but just shook her head, refusing to let him in. Refusing to draw Henry's attention. Just... refusing. Finally, she cleared her throat enough to say, "I'm fine."

Of course, he obviously didn't buy it. That was quite evident, quite plain on his face. But she raised an eyebrow, only to frown at him in warning. No questions. Her expression wouldn't allow it. So he didn't push, instead just lifting an eyebrow before stepping forward to join Henry. It took Emma a moment to realize she'd been quite harsh with someone who was only trying to be kind to her.

"This one is modeled after the HMS Oxford. No one seems to know who manned her for the first ten years, but she lasted through many a battle," Killian was saying as she came up alongside them, and Henry looked utterly enraptured.

For a moment, she just about forgot to be worried. But then Killian gestured to the actual factory part of the building – a massive hangar-esque space that looked like it was designed to hold an inordinate number of planes. Instead, as Killian explained, vessel laying took place there, and while he was more involved in the architectural side of things, he found the process fascinating. Massive rigging held the unfinished ship upright, and even Emma had to admit that it was pretty incredible. She found herself staring, open-mouthed, and only snapped it shut when Henry nudged her.

"Told you it was cool," he teased. Emma just nodded, unwilling to ruin this for him. She wasn't ready to get too far into Neal yet, considering Henry had never asked much beyond a few surface-level questions.

 _He came to her room one evening, several years ago, asking why his friends were picked up at school by their dads and he wasn't. Emma had known it was coming, of course, but breaching the subject had never seemed easy._

 _Emma patted the mattress, offering him the spot next to her. Once he walked over and she helped him up, she wrapped her little boy up in a blanket with her and tried to explain, though she didn't think she'd really done it quite right by the end._

" _Well, your dad and I weren't married. We loved each other, but when we thought about having a wedding, he found out about a really exciting job and I could see how happy the idea made him. So I couldn't stop him from going, and he promised he would come back once he finished doing that."_

 _Henry's little face crumpled into further confusion. "But I've never even met him. He doesn't want to come home?"_

 _That was the first moment that Emma wondered if maybe Neal just wasn't ever going to come back. If maybe she should've given up on him by now. But she had never loved anyone like she loved him. When things were rough with her parents and she felt so lost and misunderstood, she had come to visit them in Camden to try and make amends, and met him completely by accident. They had even moved to Boston, but on one of his weekends visiting his father in Maine had apparently provided him with news of the job opportunity, and nothing had been the same since._

 _In truth, there was a part of her that wondered if perhaps she hadn't been enough, even with Henry in the picture. While Emma knew what her strengths were, she also recognized that no one else had ever shown interest beyond a few obviously inappropriate advances while she was at work. Nothing genuine. Nothing lasting. So maybe she just wasn't built for something long-term. Or maybe she just needed to be patient. Aside from when he first met Emma herself, he had never been so excited and invested in anything until that Bosun job. And she hadn't seen him since._

 _"I don't know, Henry. But he promised, and I have to believe that he meant it."_

So despite Emma's worry for Henry's safety, she couldn't quite deny him the chance to join one of the builders on a tour of what they had added to the hull so far. Provided, of course, he wore safety equipment, which the builders obviously agreed with.

Except that left her alone with Killian again, and she could feel those penetrating blue eyes of his lingering on her until she turned to look at him. He didn't look away that time.

"Do you have a fear of boats?" Killian asked after a moment, seeming somewhere between concerned and amused.

"Not exactly."

He crossed his arms over his chest, and some part of her brain focused again on the fact that he did so right-over-left. She didn't think she'd ever met someone who favored one hand so strongly, and for some reason (probably because it was _Killian_ ), she found that fascinating. There had to be a reason. "I would ask if I've offended you in some way," he mused, "but your boy made it seem like you were bothered before you ran into me."

Emma grimaced slightly, turning away to watch Henry again. But she owed him some sort of answer, didn't she? It wasn't about him, and Emma felt she needed to make that more clear. "Henry's father... he left before Henry was born. He works on a ship."

She felt more than heard him approach her, the hair on her arm standing up as he lifted his hand to the middle of her back to brace her gently. "I'm sorry to hear that. Is that Neal?"

Emma nodded, still staring forward. There was no use in trying to look at him and deal with the sympathy. She hated pity more than nearly anything, but sympathy from Killian felt like it could be devastating. Not just for her emotions but also for those walls she'd built up around her heart.

"He said he'd come back," she explained finally, toying with the locket again.

Killian's hand fell away and she nearly did turn at that, disappointed by its absence. Instead, she curled her arms around herself, trying to muster a smile for Henry when he turned and waved, gesturing for her to take a picture of him. Good. Something to do. To focus on. She could do that.

"Killian!" Henry called, hands around his mouth to help the sound carry.

The sailor stood up straighter at her side, offering a wave as well.

"Come get in the picture!"

Both Emma and Killian seized up, looking at each other out of the corner of their eye as they pretended not to do just that. But finally, Killian called out, "What for? This is your adventure, lad."

"But you gave me the tour," Henry argued, clearly disheartened.

Emma just wanted it over with. "Go," she muttered, waving her hand towards the rigging he'd need to climb onto. Better to give Henry what he was after than to have him sad the rest of the day. But she wasn't quite sure what she would do about having a picture of the two of them – on a ship no less – lingering on her phone to taunt her.

It wasn't until she finally convinced him to head home for dinner that Emma had a bizarre realization: She couldn't recall with any real certainty, but for some reason she was convinced that when Killian had reached out to touch her so carefully, he had used his left hand.


	4. Chapter 4

The next time Emma saw Killian, it was back at the Bell Curve on Wednesday night. Henry hadn't managed to shut up about the man since Saturday, although he sometimes faltered when he caught the looks on his mother's and grandparents' faces. He hadn't yet asked the big, obvious question about how uncomfortable they were, but he also didn't seem to have put two-and-two together to make it equal Neal. Not yet.

Killian, it seemed, had only come in because his co-workers had all decided to make a night of it. Emma jumped to this conclusion about an hour after he arrived, because he hadn't come up to the bar even once. And the fact that she was bothered by it only made things worse.

She wasn't being very subtle, unfortunately, because it didn't take very long for Ruby to notice what was happening. It helped, of course, that Emma was behind the bar and Ruby wasn't, because the prideful, insulted part of the blonde would not have wanted to take the ship builders' orders. Ruby clearly had no qualms, though, as she kept reporting back to Emma throughout the night.

It started with the obvious, "Did you know the Irish guy's back?" Emma did, though she pretended otherwise.

Ten minutes later, Ruby delivered their drink requests and smirked openly when she mentioned the straight rum. Emma rolled her eyes. But her friend didn't drop it. "I would've thought he'd at least say hello," Ruby murmured as she leaned on the bar to watch Emma make the drinks.

"When he's out with his friends? Why would he?"

"I dunno," Ruby shrugged, obviously not at nonchalant as she (or Emma, for that matter) was trying to be. "You two seemed... like _friends_."

But then Emma set the last drink down, leveling a serious, pointed glance at Ruby. The brunette held her hands up before taking the tray and backing off.

Half an hour later, though, Emma was closing out a tab when Ruby decided to bring him up again, clearly relentless about whatever crusade she seemed to believe she was on. "Okay, you can't tell me that you haven't noticed him watching you. Did you tear into him about that whole waiting outside thing? 'Cause that wasn't his fault."

"No, Ruby," Emma snapped, exasperated. "I don't know what's wrong with him. Henry and I saw him on Saturday, and he seemed fine."

"... Why did you see him? And with _Henry_? I don't-"

"He works at that ship building place. Henry wanted to go on the tour, and Killian offered to do it. It was nothing."

Ruby lifted her eyebrows expressively, shaking her head. "Damn. Well _nothing_ clearly did a number on him. He's looking again. Why don't you go say hi?"

It took a moment, but Emma did come to the realization that maybe Killian wasn't upset, but rather thought that she might be. It was just so easy to put up walls and barriers to new people – especially a man who she was trying so hard to pretend meant nothing to her. It should have been easier to do, really. She knew so little about him, and yet there was something... warm to his eyes that first day. Kind, to his interactions with her and Henry. But Emma also thought that she recognized something in him that lived inside herself as well: a loneliness of some kind. One that, evidently, neither of them knew how to handle quite right. She saw it in the concern he'd expressed for her, in how uncertain his touch was and how little he said, even to someone as outgoing as Robin last week. Although he wasn't shy about his questions, per se, she recognized it in the things he had asked at the factory, somehow knowing precisely what she meant without her saying it all.

Her eyes had moved to him without Emma consciously telling them to, and Ruby cleared her throat, clearly ready to keep pushing. But rather that waiting to see which angle she would try, Emma stepped around her and made her way over to Killian and his co-workers' table. He wasn't the first to look up, but she didn't pay much attention to the one who did.

"We're alright, thanks," the first one told her dismissively.

At his sort-of greeting to her, the others looked up in turn. Killian's eyes snapped to hers as soon as he heard it, curiosity flashing behind his eyes. But he quickly covered it up, pretending he was merely watching her, waiting for her to leave like the others were. Or maybe that was really it, and Emma had been insane to quietly wonder whether he had any sort of... interest, or whether he thought perhaps they really were friends. Maybe not.

She still didn't bother glancing at the other men, and instead thinned her lips into an awkward, fake, closed-mouthed smile before nodding and backing away.

And she very nearly just walked back to the bar. But then she remembered something she had recently told Henry. Before moving to Camden, she'd literally tracked down assholes for a living. She could handle whatever these sailors said. One surreptitious glance at the clock on the wall later, she made a decision. Her spine straightened, Emma swung herself back around to face them, and she found herself feeling incredibly validated when she realized he was still watching.

It was time for her break, and if Ruby seemed annoyed by this later, Emma had a heck of a case against her with all of that nudging. Shoving, more like.

Killian's eyebrow lifted in question, and the change in expression had no right to be so attractive. Emma steeled herself, drawing in a breath and snagging an empty chair from a nearby table without question, dropping it down next to his. She sat, one leg crossing over the other towards him. His friends all halted their conversations, and were definitely staring at her, but she just waited for Killian to make a decision.

It was slow. Seemingly endless. But a grin pulled at his cheeks until he reached over to the table, picking up his drink and holding it out to her. He knew full well she wouldn't take it, considering she was working, but Emma shook her head at him regardless. "How's work been?" she asked instead, tilting her head. She meant far more than just _work_. How had _he_ been?

"Good," he replied, tone somehow less burdened than she had expected. "How's your boy? He seemed like he had a good time."

Emma shot a stern look at the men who were still watching them, and heard Killian chuckle under his breath as they quickly turned back to their conversations. He rolled his lips together to try and hide it as she looked at him again, though. Emma smiled anyway, somehow baffled that she had been the source of that genuine amusement he didn't seem to feel, or at least show, very easily. Such emotion, when rare and offered sparingly, was so much more wonderful. It felt like a reward, somehow.

"Henry's great. He hasn't stopped talking about it." _Or you_.

The lighting in the bar was dim, as restaurants and pubs usually are to allow for both perceived attractiveness and some sense of incognito safety, but Emma thought she saw his ears redden a bit. He reached up to scratch the spot behind his ear that he seemed to always go for. Emma was almost surprised to note that, yet again, he used his dominant hand. It shouldn't have been unusual or surprising. But her eyes searched out his left hand, even as he started to respond.

"Well, I'm glad to... hear that."

Emma glanced up, embarrassed at being caught once she realized he looked distressed. His left hand, the elusive one, was terribly scarred. How had she not noticed that before? Killian slid his hand into his trouser pocket, not bothering to try and be subtle about it. Immediately, she regretted coming over. But the rational part of her brain – the stronger part, in some respects – pointed out that he'd seemed pleased, at first, to see her. And Emma knew she would react the same way if one of her scars, invisible though they may be, were brought to light or scrutinized silently, especially by a near-stranger.

"I'm sorry," she breathed finally, fidgeting in her seat to inch away from him.

Killian sat his glass down immediately, reaching out to stop her. His fingers aimed for her arm, and Emma stopped herself before moving too far for him to touch. Still, he hesitated, then lifted his arm to go for her shoulder instead. "Emma..."

She shook her head quickly, inadvertently flicking her curls across his arm and the back of his hand. "No, I shouldn't have- I mean, … I was being nosy. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not anybody's fault, really. An accident." Killian lifted a shoulder awkwardly.

"A recent one?" She asked, voice unusually timid. The scars didn't look old and faded, like the one a child might have earned in an accident. But it wasn't wrapped, either, so surely it wasn't a new thing?

He shook his head a little. "Not particularly."

Emma hummed her understanding quietly, nodding. She glanced over her shoulder to check in on Ruby, figuring she'd probably ruined this interaction, rather like their previous one. But as she looked at him again, Killian seemed uninterested in ending their conversation. However, a subject change was quite obviously in order.

"Do you and Ruby work here every night?" he asked, lifting his squat liquor glass back to his lips.

She nodded, relieved. "I moved here about ten years ago, and maybe two years later, Ruby's granny wanted some help here, since she was more interested in starting a diner. So she owns the place, but Ruby and I sort of... manage it, I guess." Emma paused, her fingers toying with the serving apron she had around her waist. "I feel kinda bad, considering Henry, but he's got my parents, and sometimes Neal's father spends the day with him or checks in. So he says he doesn't mind so much."

"I imagine you'd sort of miss him, now he's been in school for so long," Killian mused, setting his now-empty glass down.

"Well- ...Yeah, of course. But, I mean, I told him I would quit if he wanted me to. So I-"

He lifted a hand, waving it just slightly in the air between them. "I meant no offense, Emma. Truly. I was just curious. Figured it explained this weekend, perhaps."

Emma sank back into the chair, realizing only then how stiff her posture had been. "No, you're right. Henry's a great kid. I just have to wonder, sometimes, how much I'm missing."

"He loves you deeply."

Her eyes snapped back to his in surprise, and it suddenly hit her that she had always, however secretly, wondered. Wondered if maybe she had done this all wrong, despite nobody telling her that she had. Killian smiled, openly amused by her shock.

It took a moment to register the touch, but his hand was warm on both of hers, stilling them. When he spoke, it was slowly and purposefully, and he inclined his head towards her to do it. "You, Emma, are an incredible mum. Henry is clever, and polite, and blatantly adores you. And he clearly knows that you work as hard as you do just for him."

Emma blinked at him, awed by the idea that he felt so sure in his praise. "I..."

Killian gave her hands a pat before leaning back in his chair once again, arm draped over the back so he could face her a little more easily. "You deserve far better than you seem to believe, lass."

The eyebrow lift that followed was a massive relief, as it gave her leave to lighten the mood. She let her lips draw up into a smile. "Is that so?"

"Aye," he nodded firmly, smirking. Perhaps she shouldn't have been surprised by the way his eyes seemed to darken, but Emma was instead taken aback by the way she blushed, glancing down and reaching up out of habit to tug at her locket.

When she looked back at him, trying to find something worth adding, his expression had turned serious, watching the way her fingers spun the silver on its chain.

"Apologies," he said immediately.

"What for?"

Killian gestured vaguely towards her neck. "I'd forgotten for a moment. It isn't right for me to... That is, I shouldn't be forward when you're waiting for him to return to you."

Emma frowned, but conceded him that point. "You're right. It doesn't make sense. ...But, you know what else doesn't make sense?" she asked, unable to reel in the flux of frustration she felt. Not so much towards Killian, but about her whole situation. "It doesn't make sense than Neal has never even met his own son. Ten years later, I'm still waiting."

"... So why do you still wear it?"

She squirmed in her chair, slammed back into the reality of where they were, and what they were talking about so openly in front of his co-workers. They didn't seem to be paying attention, but how many times had she pretended not to listen to conversations at the bar? And they were sitting even closer than she had been at those times. She didn't want to admit how often that question nagged at her. She certainly didn't want strangers (Killian not quite included anymore) to see the way he'd affected her with it. Or, for that matter, the way he affected her in general. Emma looked over at them, panic sliding into her veins until she finally looked back at Killian before standing up.

Just before heading back to the bar, she shook her head, lifted her shoulders into a devastated shrug and cleared her throat to say, "I don't know."

* * *

 **A/N: Goodness me. Forgive any distracting typos in this one, friends. It's awfully late but I had the muse for it, so I'm hoping for the best on that front.**


	5. Chapter 5

"Emma," Killian called a few minutes later, leaning over the bar with that right hand of his propping him up.

She looked up in the middle of shaking a drink for a local doctor who went by his last name, Whale. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the doctor's disappointment in her immediate distraction from his sorry attempts at flirtation. But she just grimaced a little and looked down at the glass she was pouring the mix into.

Killian, apparently, wasn't giving up that easily. He stepped around to stand beside Whale, rather like Robin had done to him the previous week. "Emma, I'm sorry."

"It's fine," she told him, waving a hand dismissively. "But I'm not on break anymore, so I need to-"

"Please," he cut in as she started to gesture down to another customer. "Two minutes."

Her eyebrows pulled together, but his tone was so imploring that she found it impossible to say no. The pain behind his eyes certainly helped to push her over the edge as well. So she sighed, just looking at him for a moment before turning and walking away. Killian followed her along the bar with his eyes, seemingly shocked when she jerked her chin towards one of their store rooms. It wasn't entirely cut off, as they had a door that was partly see-through to keep an eye on their liquor, but it was quieter, certainly, and a bit more private if he wanted to get into the whole locket thing again.

Why was she doing this? Oh, yeah. Because he was handsome and Emma was weak.

So as the door swung quietly shut behind him, Emma turned and watched him expectantly. "Well?"

"I want to explain," he told her, visibly uncomfortable. "I wasn't trying to judge _you_ , Emma. I'm bothered by _him_. By Neal, for stringing you along like this."

"You don't understand," she countered defensively, shaking her head and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Killian frowned. "I think I do. He told you he loved you, talked about a future, probably, and then left you alone with Henry. The fact that you still believe him, that- ..Emma, I lost my parents very early, and not by their own choice. And that hurt enough as it is. How can you forgive him for what he's done to your boy?"

Emma wasn't struck speechless, but rather was so furious that she couldn't come up with anything she even wanted to bother saying. How dare he presume to know her after a week? How dare he make judgments about her relationship with Neal? Sure, _she_ was allowed to bitch about him, but nobody else was. Nobody else understood him, as he was then, like Emma had. And how could she deny Neal the thing he'd wanted more than anything when he swore it was temporary? He was an adult; she couldn't very well have just stopped him!

But there was something else, which Killian had obviously not considered, and it took her a minute to voice it. By the time she managed to, she was staring over at the bottles of zinfandel, her entire body tense.

"You want me to turn on someone... that might be dead for all we know?"

Killian sagged, his own frustration having manifested itself in an unmoving, stern posture. But with sympathy, it seemed, his body took on something more kinetic as he leaned to the side in an attempt to make eye contact. "What?"

"He wrote a few times, at the beginning. But then winter came back around, and he stopped writing. We haven't heard from him since. Not his father, not me, not anyone."

"Emma-"

"Get out," she snapped, swinging her utterly fuming glare around to land on him.

He held up his hands – both of them – in surrender, and started backing up. But before he reached the door handle, Killian paused. "If something has happened to him, Emma, I am exceptionally sorry. But you can't live like this forever. If he loved you as well as he should have, he would want you to be happy. And you don't seem happy to me."

She narrowed her eyes dangerously, so he sighed and made for the exit.

"I know, I know. I'll leave you be, lass."

* * *

What an ass. Emma was still openly pissed off by the time she got home, but waved off her parents' questions and hugged them as they left, heading for their own beds that time. Henry, thankfully, was already in bed and fast asleep, which she double-checked before pulling a chair over to the closet that she claimed only held holiday decorations and things like bags for birthday gifts and the luggage they never used. It wasn't a very big closet, but aside from Henry's favorite holiday (Christmas), they didn't have all that much to put in there anyway. But up near the top of the space was a shelf with a couple of boxes stored there for so long they had dusted-tops and lines left around where they'd been when Emma reached up to pull them down. Stacking them precariously atop each other, she carefully stepped back down and moved into her bedroom, setting them on the rug and closing the door behind her.

The first box held mementos, photographs, and the one Christmas ornament that Henry had never seen: the little glass swan Neal had bought because it reminded him of Emma somehow. She'd adored it, happy to glance at it throughout the holidays when they set up their first (and only) tree together, watching it reflect the rainbow lights in its clear prism. He had taken off at the end of the next September, sending her home to her parents at Christmas for the first time in years, a newborn Henry in her arms. In some ways, it hadn't been such a bad thing. It wasn't until the third or fourth year that she really started to panic and to desperately try and focus on Henry and the illusion of Santa Claus instead.

It wasn't the box she'd actually wanted, but she lingered over it anyway, wondering not for the first time whether any of Neal's smiles in those pictures had been genuine. If any of the dates he had taken her on – admittedly, more towards the beginning than the end – meant to him what they did to her. As her thoughts continued to turn dark, she pushed the box away from her on the floor, reaching for the next one.

It was there that she found what she was after: the letters that Neal had sent during those early months. They had never exactly been regular or frequent, but Emma had always found some sort of validation when they showed up. It wasn't until much later, when she finally decided to put them away for good, that she actually registered how insulting and disappointing they were. He wrote so openly and excitedly about his job, from what it entailed to the places he went. But when it came to Emma and the child they were expecting, he seemed bored. Even after Henry's due date and birth had come and gone, he seemed to avoid acknowledging it. He claimed to look forward to seeing them when things slowed down at work, but otherwise it was always about his new adventures.

Emma just couldn't see how that kind of adventure was better than that of raising a child.

So, for the first time in years, she read through the letters again, her free hand clinging to the locket the entire time. The bigger part of her wanted to believe in Neal despite everything, but the longer she sat there, the harder it was. Surely something had gone wrong. People talked, sometimes, about just _knowing_ when someone was hurt or had died. But Emma felt nothing apart from her longing.

Picking through, she found the letter dated most recently and tried to pick out from it what she could. But he hadn't given anything away as far as why he might stop writing or where he'd been at the time. She came away with no new information, and found herself just staring at the wall across from her as her fingers clutched that damned locket so desperately.

When the idea hit her, she moved instantly, reaching for her computer and looking up the company that Neal worked for. Emma sent them an email inquiry about Neal Gold, who had started working for them about ten years before. And although she felt silly for doing it, she finally hit 'Send' and put the laptop away.

Once she'd returned the boxes to their shelves, she finally crawled into bed, wondering what, exactly, she was hoping to hear in reply.

* * *

 **A/N: I just wanted to drop a quick (but enormous!) thank you for the folks who have posted reviews recently. I've received some of the most genuine, kind and meaningful compliments on my writing... probably ever. And that means the world to me. I'm always open to critique and aim to improve, but seeing that people enjoy this project I've taken on for fun and because (let's be honest) I miss the heck out of Emma and non-Wish-Realm-Hook - that just makes my day. Love you all lots!**

 **Also! I've started a new story that's a CaptainSwan/OutlawQueen AU set in an alternate version of the Enchanted Forest. That one is fully planned out but I've only just started writing it. I think it'll be rather fun, where this one is more muted and less action-y. Haha. Anyway, it might not be your cup of tea but who knows?**

 **Give me a shout if you have any questions, ideas, comments, etc! I obviously love hearing from you all!**

 **-Avery**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Special thanks to Ness fan 01 and Klw797 for their lovely reviews on the last chapter! I hope this one lives up to your expectations ;)**

* * *

Emma didn't see Killian for over a week after that. His co-workers came back a couple of times, but he was nowhere to be seen. And at first, she was thrilled to know that she didn't have to worry about another argument with him. If Ruby hadn't been so obvious about looking to find him, as well, maybe Emma could have just written it off and forgotten about it. Probably not, but she'd hoped.

Instead, she felt her ire slowing down, fading into something akin to confusion. On the one hand, she appreciated the way he so obviously cared about others – or, if not all people, then at least her and Henry. Emma couldn't say she understood why he did, but it was actually really nice to think that someone was willing to go against her and risk her anger to check in and try to ensure her happiness. Frustrating, but nice if it came from the right place.

On the other hand, she was still pretty ticked about the whole 'I know you better than you do' thing. How could he? She was the furthest thing from an open book, even if he did seem to share many traits with her.

But those were thoughts for... Well, she'd say for 'somewhere besides work,' but she sort of thought she preferred 'never, and nowhere.' It was just too confusing and frustrating. Emma knew she had no right to feel sad or hurt because of some near stranger. But he had no right to try and be protective of her, either, though some part of her hated to say she appreciated it. Through her interactions over the next ten days, she found herself judging the strangers that passed through the town and the Bell Curve, and unintentionally comparing them to Killian.

Granted, it hardly mattered what those sailors were like. She wasn't one for hasty relationships or one-night stands. Especially not with people who would leave a couple days later. _But Killian's not going anywhere_...

"Oh, god..." she muttered to herself, stopping in the store room as she was pulling down a crate of wine. That was so not appropriate. She had a son to consider and she still hadn't heard back about Neal.

Really, she just kind of wanted to punch something. Or take a case like she used to, if only to blow off some steam. But that wasn't something she could really do with Henry in her life, either. It was a minor miracle to begin with that he hadn't asked heavy questions or worked out what was wrong with her. He was so clever, just as Killian had noticed.

It wasn't until the next morning during breakfast that her phone buzzed. Emma paused mid-bite of her toast, glancing at the screen as it lit up and indicated a new message through the Gmail app. And it was from the Thatch Family Trading Company. She bit back a curse, looking over at Henry, who was sitting on the couch playing some game for a bit before they left for school. How she had managed to create a child that was a morning person, Emma would never know.

Deciding that she might not manage to get him into school if she read the email and didn't like what it said, she cleared the notification from her lock screen and shoved it into her jacket pocket before herding Henry into the car. The school wasn't that far, but she liked the importance of driving as a task, thinking it would force her to focus on something else. And it would be easy to read it in her car and then either drive to her parents' or straight back home without anyone seeing her.

"Bye, mom!" Henry offered cheerily, leaning over like always in anticipation for the kiss she always dropped atop his head.

"Have a good day, kid."

Hopefully both of them would. He grinned, hopped out and slung his backpack onto his shoulder before heading inside with his friends. Thank goodness he was more open to being social than his mother.

Emma moved the car to the far side of the parking lot, staring out the windshield until she finally felt brave enough to unlock her phone and tap open the email.

* * *

 _Dear Miss Nolan,_

 _Thank you for your inquiry, and our sincere apologies for the delay in response. With the holidays approaching, our schedule has been quite tight._

 _In regards to Mr. Neal Gold, we can confirm that he does still work for the company. We do not have your name on record, so we are not able to give any location specifics, unfortunately. But at present, he has taken an extended position as Bosun on our largest project, and will yet be away for some time. While we cannot contact him until he is back on land, we can certainly hold and forward any message you may wish to send to him._

 _All the best,_

 _The TFTC Team_

* * *

Emma squinted, not quite sure what, exactly, she felt. On the one hand, Neal was definitely not dead. And that was obviously a good thing. But on the other...

What the hell? So he had just stopped writing. No way had he been gone on whatever trip he'd been on since he last wrote nearly nine years ago. That would be insane. He had only written a few times after Henry's birth, and she utterly failed to comprehend how a father could just care so little about his own son. Sure, Neal and Mr. Gold had a bizarre father-son relationship, so maybe he hadn't learned from the best like Emma had. But in her experience, most people with that disappointing past worked even harder to make sure the opposite was true for their children.

Emma threw the car into reverse, quickly pulling out of her parking spot before switching into drive and locking her phone once more so she could drop it into the cup holder between the front seats. She wanted to tell herself that she had no idea where she was heading, but that was a blatant lie. Her eyes flicked to the car's clock. She would get there before nine, with probably a good ten minutes to spare. While she wasn't sure whether that was a good or bad thing, she supposed that at least she couldn't talk herself out of it once she got there.

Upon her arrival, she turned off the car, waiting inside until she couldn't stand it anymore and stepped out into the cold, her jacket zipped all the way up to try and protect her. It didn't do her that much good, though, considering she was already fuming from the inside, yet the bitterness she now felt seemed to override all sense of fire or warmth.

"E-Emma?"

How had she missed him walking up? She turned to face him, understanding suddenly that he walked to work despite the weather. Maybe he didn't like driving here, or hoped he could avoid it once winter hit properly. Yeah, right.

 _Focus, Emma. So not the point_.

She lifted her chin in a weak attempt at feeling strong, but finally replied. "What happened to your hand?"

"Excuse me?"

Killian glared at her openly, obviously unable to comprehend where that desire to pry had come from. Emma supposed that was fair; neither of them had been particularly forthcoming unless something went awry or the other person inadvertently noticed an expression they failed to hide.

"The accident. What happened?"

He fidgeted, glancing towards the factory as though he suddenly hated that he worked there. Or was it that he hated Emma knowing he did so? "I got caught in the rigging when a ship went down," he snapped after a pregnant pause. "The rope, and the metal clasps, they- … Well, you saw."

Indeed she had. His hands were stuffed in his pockets like hers were, so she didn't bother trying to look again. Her hair flew around her as a gust of wind picked up speed and whipped past them, alerting her both to his schedule and the fact that she didn't want to stay out too long and end up getting sick before work that night and their plans with Henry that weekend.

She swallowed roughly, looking out at the docks before finally shifting her weight and explaining herself. "Neal isn't dead." Emma paused, half hoping he would interrupt her. But he didn't, beyond looking shocked. That was also fair. She wasn't exactly moving from thought to thought in a rational order. Her anger and hurt and confusion, it was all too much. "I contacted the company he worked, or, well, _works_ for. So, I guess I'm trying to apologize. You were right. He just... didn't care enough."

Killian frowned, but just stood there. Eventually, she was too embarrassed and disgusted with Neal to just stand there anymore.

"I should go," she declared, turning away. But as she went to open her car door, his hand caught her, spinning her around to face him and pulling her into his chest. "What-?"

"I'm sorry, lass." He murmured the words into her hair as his arms wrapped around her, to ward off the pain or the cold.

Emma had no idea what to do at first, completely taken by surprise by the embrace after their previous distance. It was only then that she realized she wasn't just mad. She was also far more sad than she'd expected upon reading it and taking off to find Killian. Neal really _had_ just abandoned them. She didn't see how a man could just decide to never return for the woman he said he loved. For his child.

She could still remember that day at the airport, when he had made promise after promise, none of which had been kept. He'd flown down south to the headquarters of the TFTC in order to join their team, and they'd lingered outside of security since Emma couldn't follow him inside. It seemed like it would be months, then. But she'd pulled him back again as he started towards the line, kissing him desperately. Neal seemed amused at the time.

He clearly hadn't been, though. She clearly hadn't been enough.

"Emma. It's freezing, we should-" Killian leaned back, only to curse under his breath and clutch her tighter when he saw her face. "Oh, love, don't cry."

As soon as he said it, she realized he was right. She pulled away quickly, her fingers dashing furiously over her cheeks. "I- You should go. You're late." She pushed her hair out of her face, looking back at her car again before finally meeting his gaze.

Nobody had ever looked at her like that. Emma's mouth opened a little, but she couldn't come up with anything. For a moment, it seemed like Killian couldn't either. But he finally tucked his hands back into his jacket pockets.

"... Are you working tonight?" he asked. Emma shook her head, grateful that she wouldn't have to explain herself to Ruby. Killian hesitated, but finally gave a single, firm nod. "Well. You can spend the evening with your boy."

Emma rolled her lips together, loosing a breath through her nose as she tried to collect herself. She still couldn't quite believe that her first instinct was to find him. Not her parents, not her best friend... but Killian. That didn't make sense, but at the same time, it kind of did. A lot of things seemed that way with him.

"I- …" Emma stepped forward, reaching out for his arm and surprising both of them. "This is crazy, but, do you- do you want to come over tonight? Like, for dinner? Henry would love to see you."

His eyebrow lifted, but when she didn't take it back, he smiled. "And would you, lass?"

"Yes. Henry and me."

"Well," Killian declared, seemingly rather proud to be included, "that sounds brilliant."

Emma nodded, unable to really produce the expression she wanted to: one that shared his amusement and excitement for an evening that was either going to be charming or casual or, frankly, she didn't know. But then, who cared? Fuck Neal. Seriously. Finally, she cracked a smile, backing up towards her car. "You walked here," she pointed out. "Will I need to pick you up after I get Henry?"

Killian laughed, and she knew immediately that she loved the sound of it. "If you'd like. But if I'm coming over that early, then you'll have to let me help with dinner."

"Deal."

They both hesitated again, until he finally shook his head, smiling at the ground, then at her. "I should go, as you said. Perhaps you should, too, before you get sick in this weather."

Emma opened her car door, giving a repeat performance of that lame wave from before, and although he gave a mock salute in return and turned away, she waited until he'd made it inside before sliding into her car and turning it back on.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I haven't forgotten about _Bringing it Home_ , but I'm working out a couple kinks in the plot direction to make sure it all works out right. So here's another chapter in Camden instead!**

* * *

When Emma went to pick up Henry after school, she was surprised to find that she actually felt much better. Perhaps because of Killian, but honestly it was more to do with the fact that she had come to a few realizations throughout the afternoon. First, she had gone to her parents' house only to find her mother, Mary Margaret, working on her artwork, and her father, David, writing the story to accompany the picture. They hadn't started out with such simple, lovely jobs, but after Emma moved out and they realized they could sort of retire, Mary Margaret had suggested something more fun, which could offer a bit of joy to the world. They had always loved to tell their daughter silly fairytales, after all.

Emma walked in without knocking or preamble, and she must have still looked pale and confused, because they stopped what they were doing instantly to address the situation. "Emma?" her mother questioned carefully, her pencil set carefully on the table where it wouldn't ruin the sketched outline of a princess. "Are you all right?"

The blonde hesitated, but then shook her head. "Today is weird."

David frowned, standing up and reaching out to draw her towards the table. "Hot cocoa?" He suggested right away, and Emma knew they didn't expect it to fix anything, but it was sort of a tradition, that drink. Just like she'd told Killian...

"Sure," she nodded, even though he'd already gone to start making it. "It's just... So a while ago I sent an email to the company Neal works for."

They both stopped, blinking at her. Emma knew full well she was the only one who had given him the benefit of the doubt for so long. Even his own father seemed unsure as of late. "... Why'd you do that?" Mary Margaret asked finally, breaking the awkward silence.

"I- … Don't get all excited or anything, but I met this guy who-"

"Really?" her mother sat forward, even as her dad set a mug down a little too loudly.

"Not like that," Emma said, only half lying. "He just... he wanted to know why I'm still holding onto what I had with Neal. And I guess, I never really let myself think too much about it before now."

Mary Margaret sighed, but nodded with understanding. "Sometimes the heart thinks it wants something because it hasn't been corrected. Are you sure this new guy doesn't have that potential?"

Lifting a hand to her hair, Emma frowned and tugged at her wind-blown hair in an attempt to untangle it. "I don't know. I haven't known him very long."

"But he convinced you to try and learn more about Neal?" David asked sharply, evidently thinking that it was significant. Perhaps he was right.

"Well, … Yeah." Emma frowned, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion. She had never thought that much about a solution to her problem, if only because nobody besides Neal had ever seemed to take her seriously. Why was it that when a single man turned out to be a father, he was infinitely more attractive, but when a woman was a single mother, all she had was baggage? It was infuriating. Wasn't it better, then, for her to hold on and hope for the best, or to consider giving Neal a second chance? Maybe not...

If Killian was serious, then maybe she had a shot at the real thing. But she wouldn't if she kept living in the past. Emma just hated the idea that Henry would see her in a bad relationship – up close and personal, this time – and then end up in a crappy place, himself. Sure, he had her parents to look up to, even if Emma hadn't felt that way when it mattered most. But would that be enough, when it hadn't for her?

Granted, her reasons for fighting with her parents were nothing to do with their relationship or any bad influences on their part. Emma couldn't promise the same thing for her son, though she liked to think she'd done better than she might've done. No, her problem came from her best friend at the time, Lily. Perfect Lily, who her parents had loved and who seemed to do everything right. Awesome grades, admission to colleges of her choice, internships and job offers when Emma couldn't seem to do well during interviews or exams. While she understood, now, that their praise for Lily was so frequently offered in an attempt to encourage her, she had believed at the time that she was being compared to Lily, only to come up short every time.

And that just wasn't the truth of the matter. Just as her fears about Neal's death hadn't been founded in anything, and her desire to believe he would return was apparently stupid. Her name hadn't been on record. They didn't know who she was. Who Henry was.

Emma sighed as her father set the cocoa down in front of her, realizing just how lost she had gotten in the recesses of her memories. "I heard back from Neal's company today," she clarified. "I meant to come here first, but I... I went to talk to Killian instead."

"That's his name?" Mary Margaret asked, nearly managing to temper her curiosity into something more calm.

"Yeah. He works at that ship building factory next to the Bell Curve. I'm sure you can imagine my not-so-mild horror at the idea of being interested in someone like him. But Henry seems to like him okay, and... I may have invited him to dinner tonight."

"Back up," David said quickly, sitting down and waving a hand in the air between them. "Wait, you- you heard back from them? What'd he say?"

"Do you need us to watch Henry tonight?"

Emma shook her head firmly, determined not to panic after she'd made Killian a promise. She had no interest in breaking it. Not with him. "No, Killian's going to help us cook," she explained, blushing more than she wanted to allow. But she explained to them, as she had not half an hour earlier, what she had written and what they had said in return.

David was predictably furious, but so was Mary Margaret, which actually sort of surprised her daughter. Emma always thought her mother was just sweetness and excitement, but sometimes she was reminded that there was much more to the older woman than she usually believed.

"Well, then you should absolutely take this Killian guy more seriously, Emma," Mary Margaret determined, earning a small piece of David's ire. "He sounds nice, and if Henry likes him, then why not try?"

"Because he needs stability?" Emma retorted immediately, unsure who she was trying to convince.

"He also needs you to be happy," her mother reached out, taking Emma's hand in hers. "Just keep him informed, and so long as you don't tear down whatever he believes about Neal, maybe he won't mind. He's a good kid, Emma. He just wants you to tell him the truth, don't you think?"

And so Emma, pulled up along the curb outside Henry's school, could only hope for the best. He liked Killian. She was sure of that much. But they needed to talk before they got to the docks. Henry bounded out of the school just as he had entered, somehow both excited to get to school as well as to leave it.

But as soon as he climbed into the front seat beside her, he was staring at her, brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"You know me too well, kid."

Emma switched the car into drive, pulling away from the school. She didn't really pick up speed, though, hoping to give them plenty of time.

"Mom."

"Okay, okay." She lifted a hand in surrender, but quickly returned it to the wheel to be a good example. "Tonight is going to be different. Not bad, I promise. Just different."

Henry stared out the front windshield, expression giving nothing away. She really ought to teach him how to play poker one day. "Different how?"

Emma had intended to just keep going, but instead she decided to pull into a gas station and turn the car all the way off, turning in her seat to face him. "Listen, I... You know you're my favorite, right? Ever."

Wary though he seemed, he nodded slowly.

"Okay, well-. Thing is, I tried to get in touch with your dad," she explained, rushing on when he showed his surprise, "and it turns out he doesn't want to talk to me. But I think we already knew that, didn't we?"

"Yeah," Henry agreed, his voice smaller and far more sad than usual. "So what's changed?"

Emma held her hand out, palm up, and waited for him to drop his on top. He unbuckled, dropping both hands down instead as he lifted his feet onto his chair and turned towards her fully.

"Henry, I wouldn't have reached out to him if it weren't for a- a friend of mine. Remember that guy we ran into at the ship factory? Killian?" When he nodded, eyes brightening a little, she smiled faintly and continued: "Well, he made some good points, about how... about how I haven't been as happy as I could be. I'm so, so pleased to be your mom. It's more than I ever could've imagined, and you are so much better than I could've asked for. Never forget that." She reached out with her spare hand to brush her fingers through his hair. "But I just..."

"Do you- _like_ him?" Henry cut in, saving her from the rambling.

She faltered, her mouth parting only to stay that way for a bit. But finally, she closed it and swallowed, nodding a little. "Maybe. Is that... okay?"

"Is Killian going to leave, too?"

God, if her heart hadn't hurt before that...

"I don't know, kid. Sometimes relationships just don't work out, and both people involved decide they're happier on their own. Or, at least, not together. And I'm not saying that I'm in any kind of relationship with him," she clarified quickly, "but just that, well, I'd like to get to know him. But neither me or him think it's fair to do that if you don't want me to."

Henry's mouth quirked to the side as he thought, and the silence made her hold her breath in a weird sort of fear she hadn't expected. If he said no, she would just tell Killian they'd changed plans. That something had come up. That it couldn't happen. But she wasn't sure that she'd ever be brave enough to ask her son for permission in the future, either, no matter his age or behavior or whatever else. The last thing she would ever allow herself to do was ruin things with her boy. The one good thing Neal had left her with.

"I think Killian is right," Henry said finally, his expression serious and determined. "You should be happier. Like grandma and grandpa are."

"Easy there, kid," Emma said, cracking a smile. "What they've got it rare. And I'm not even seeing this guy officially or anything."

"Maybe you should," Henry decided.

She let out a laugh, squeezing his hands and wondering just how long it would be before he turned into a moody teenager and regretted this moment. Maybe Killian wouldn't be around that long. Maybe he would, and Henry would grow to look up to him and that moment would never come. Emma had no idea. But maybe that wasn't the important part.

"Well, then you might be interested to know that I've invited him over tonight for dinner." He shot her a look and she grinned. "Different, isn't it? I offered to pick him up on the way home so he could help us cook. You like cooking, right? It'll be fun."

He shrugged. "Sure. But if he's mean to you like dad, he can't come over again."

Emma frowned, releasing his hand and turning forward again. "You don't have to dislike your dad for my sake, kid. Seatbelt."

Henry clicked it into place, settling back in. "He left me, too." His hand lifted to run under his eye like he was brushing away a tear, and Emma stopped halfway to the ignition.

"He never got to meet you," she corrected gently. "If he does, he'll know what a mistake he made. But for now, why don't you pick what you want to eat and we'll go get Killian, okay?"

So they took to the road again, driving under the cloudy skies of an afternoon Camden, until they made it back to the factory. With a serious sense of deja vu, Emma got out of the car and started towards the front door. She didn't realize Henry had followed suit until his hand slipped into hers. He was staring straight ahead, though, so she said nothing and held the door open for him so they could go inside and find their dinner guest. Killian wasn't hard to spot, with his height and dark features apart from those bright, insanely blue eyes of his.

He looked up from his desk as they finally walked past the correct open door, stopping mid-notation on the blueprint he had spread out before him. An immediate smile lit his face for them, and he set down the pencil so he could stand, walking around to lean against the front side of his desk. "Hey, you two all set, then?"

Henry let go of Emma's hand, only to lean against her uncertainly. Her hand moved around his back to his shoulder. "Yep," she confirmed regardless. "I promised Henry he could pick, though." Emma offered Killian a significant look, making it clear that they'd had a tough conversation about this. But also that she still wanted it, considering the smile on her face. She glanced down at her son, asking, "Isn't that right, kid?"

Killian's eyebrows lifted as Henry took a moment to answer, staring down the older man expectantly. But he finally nodded. "I like chicken and pasta."

Both adults relaxed, and Killian took the opportunity to gather his coat and phone, stuffing it into the right side pocket before gesturing that they ought to head out. He locked the door behind him after shutting out the light, and crouched down in front of Henry before they could turn towards the car. Emma wasn't sure what this was supposed to be, but she immediately stepped back to give them space. Not that she wasn't listening, obviously.

"Tell you what, mate," Killian began, smiling warmly and clearly trying to turn on the charm enough to win Henry over. "I actually know a great chicken parmesan recipe. You might like it. And if not, I can always order pizza in."

"Mom doesn't usually go for takeout anymore," Henry countered, almost warningly.

Killian chuckled, bringing a surprising, unintentional smile to Emma's face. "Perhaps. But if I'm buying, she can't complain, right?" He winked at Henry, then looked up at her, all amusement and joy at being included – particularly by her son.

"That's true," Henry decided after a moment, glancing up at his mom. Emma rarely indulged in much of anything since having him, even considering where she worked, but the whole plan sounded fantastic, regardless of the food that might go to waste. She'd have leftovers, or something to send home with Killian, if nothing else.

"Alright, alright," she cut in finally, rolling her eyes at the pair of them. "Let's get home, yeah? If we don't start cooking soon, you won't have time to finish your homework."

Henry considered this, and immediately walked slower, a dramatic nonchalance on his face. Killian grinned, murmuring under his breath about what a 'clever lad' Henry was. Emma knew he was right. She should never have mentioned that. But they started towards the car anyway, and Henry didn't play act for much longer, catching up to walk next to Emma in a sort of protective, proprietary way.

Killian, for his part, didn't seem particularly concerned. But he did sneakily brush her hand with his, and Emma might have thought it were an accident were it not for the smile plastered on his face as he made for the backseat of her car. She nearly asked Henry to give Killian the front seat, but it turned out she didn't have to, since Henry darted forward, yanking open the door before the Irishman could, climbing into the back and passing his mom a look that clearly stated he expected her gratitude. Emma nodded in understanding, but as Killian slowly changed directions and slid into the front seat next to her, she could only try and cover the pink in her cheeks and focus on getting them safely to her apartment.

* * *

 **A/N: There's one more chapter for this evening, but it was getting much longer than I expected, so I figured it would be better divided. Forgive me!**

 **I'm so thankful for the lovely reviewers who've been taking their time to read and wonder and leave questions for me. It's wonderful to know that people find some sort of value in what I've spent time on. Much love!**

 **-Avery**

 **P.S. - to the guest who left a review for the last chapter, what funny timing! I think you might be psychic. Haha. Hopefully this answered some of your questions!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: bonus points to whoever can spot the reference to the Pilot hidden in this chapter. It's small, but I did the fact checking to make sure I got it right ;) Also, this one's longer than I expected it to be, so haha! Enjoy :)**

* * *

On the drive home, Henry chattered on about his day at school, and while Emma was listening, she was surprised to find that Killian was fully engaged, asking follow-up questions and turning in his seat to show genuine interest. Of course, she didn't miss the way he kept glancing towards her when Henry looked out the window or paused to think. Asking for approval, she thought, or permission. Her eyes flicked up to the rear view mirror, checking in on both the road and her son, before she tossed Killian an admittedly weak smile. Gods, she wanted this to go well. It didn't really make a lot of sense, yet - not to her, anyway.

It hit her about halfway there that she would also need to drive him home, or at least to offer. Something weirdly akin to anticipation made her shiver, her hands readjusting themselves on the wheel to grip a bit more tightly. Emma was the farthest thing from an unsafe driver, but she felt differently just then.

Just like she'd told Henry the evening would be.

They pulled up to the apartment complex just as Henry launched into the story about his third class of the day, which was Math. He wasn't a fan, which she knew, but Killian found it amusing for some reason. Emma found their parking spot, turning off the car and climbing out, watching over the hood of the yellow bug as Killian paused his advice about studying until Henry could climb out, shut the door, and pay attention again.

It shouldn't have tugged at her heart like that, but she couldn't stop the feeling of it. Killian was acting like he just... belonged. And she wasn't offended by it like she'd expected to be, perhaps because she was the one who had invited it. Or perhaps because the last time he and her son had interacted it had gone incredibly well.

"So," Killian was saying as Emma led the way up to the second floor, "if you aren't a fan of maths, where does your interest lie?"

Henry _hmm_ 'd as he walked between them, but settled on an answer pretty easily. "Right now I like stories. So, English class, I guess?"

"Nice choice. Good stories are always worthwhile."

Emma looked over her shoulder, blinking at him and cracking a small, bemused smile. He just smirked a little, but gestured with a hand inside his jacket pocket that she should keep going. _It's cold_ , his movements said.

At the landing, she turned left, the boys following behind her until they made it to apartment 205 and turned the key. Henry swept through the door but Killian paused to look at her, his eyes sort of boring into her in that way he had. Like he could read every emotion she had - even the ones she tried her hardest to keep out of sight. Henry's questioning call of "Mom?" broke them out of the brief staring contest, and Emma rolled her lips together before stepping in behind them and shutting the door.

Okay, so they were really doing this. The door had shut them in with their plans and intentions, but Emma just hoped that they were all on the same page. Good stories and all that.

She slid her jacket off, hooking it on the rack by the door, and then did the same with Henry's when he handed it to her. Killian followed suit without prompting.

"All right, kid," Emma began, hoping she sounded steady. "Go ahead and put your stuff in your room so we can get started."

"Kay," Henry agreed easily. As he walked down the hall, Emma turned back to their guest.

Killian, only now, looked like he felt uncomfortable. His eyes were shifting around the modest apartment, taking in the photographs on a nearby table longer than anything else. His left hand, predictably, was resting in his trouser pocket while the other hung loosely at his side. And she hadn't meant to notice or anything, but he was well dressed. It hadn't registered fully the previous times, but dark clothes suited him well, and did something outrageous to those eyes of his that were already so bright. His gaze lifted to hers, raising an immediate blush to the surface of her skin. She knew she'd been caught out, but he merely lifted an eyebrow and smiled a proper, lopsided grin.

"Okay."

Henry's voice made them both pull their attention away and to the little boy as he wandered back out. He was already rolling up his sleeves in preparation, and Emma couldn't stop herself from reaching out to help him. "Mom!" he whined dramatically, rolling his eyes.

"Sorry, kid." Emma backed off immediately, hands up in apology as she smiled down at him.

Whether he knew his dismissal had hurt a little or not, Henry finished, then reached out for her hand to tug her into the kitchen. Her smile widened. She didn't expect Killian to fall into step beside them, though she should have, but she shared that look with him as well. She just couldn't help it. If anyone could bring light to Emma's eyes, it was her baby. Even if he wasn't such a baby anymore.

Killian pushed the sleeves of his sweater up to match Henry's, clearly finding some sense of confidence in the kitchen environment. She was too afraid to ask, especially in front of Henry, but Emma was suddenly immensely curious as to how he cooked intricate things when he struggled with the use of one hand. She decided to observe rather than ask.

"Right, then, lad. Let's get cooking. Show me where everything is, will you?"

Henry started around the little kitchen, opening the cabinets he could reach to point out bowls - the strainer, in particular, since they were making pasta - and making his way one drawer at a time to the refrigerator. Killian crouched down beside him to inquire about where Emma kept the 'meat and veg.'

It was as she stepped forward to offer help that he stood, unintentionally frightening her as they invaded each other's space. Emma gasped quietly, blinking at him before loosing a breath and laughing softly. Killian reached up to rub that spot behind his ear before stepping out of her way and letting her pull out what she assumed they'd need. "Anything else?" she asked, even as she reached for the pasta and marinara sauce.

"You know this recipe, Mom?"

Emma tossed a smirk at her son, shrugging. "Not precisely. But you know I like cooking."

"Yeah," Henry said a bit grouchily, "that must be why you always watch that Ramsay guy on TV."

Killian laughed even as Emma swatted at her son's shoulder lightly. "He's talented!"

Banter aside, they got through the first steps rather quickly, with Henry taking on the simpler tasks that involved _zero knives_ , as Emma put it. He didn't seem too upset, though, considering Killian gave the boy lots of little tasks along the way. And, actually, the Irishman did quite well regardless of his hand, though he was careful if he used those knives or held heavy things like a pot or pan. When it came time to set the table, of course, Henry made an excuse to disappear, and Emma shook her head after him.

"If you're going to sneak out, at least do your homework!" she called, hands falling to her hips as she sighed and turned around.

 _Oh._

She hadn't fully registered the fact that they were alone until she watched him strain the pasta over the sink, the cloud of steam rising around him. Killian had been bold before, and despite her bravery as far as inviting him over, Emma felt like she still needed to take the lead on this. He was in unfamiliar space, and it was kind of two-on-one most of the time. So she stepped around to the end of the kitchen's island, leaning one hip against it.

"I feel bad," she admitted, sheepish and a little reluctant. "You're the one doing all of the work, after I went and invited you."

He looked over his shoulder as he poured the pasta back into the pot so he could dump the marinara on top. But he paused to face her, an easy smile on his face. "Not to worry, lass. You've had a bit of a day, it seems. You deserve an evening off."

Did she? Emma wasn't sure mothers ever really got time off, even after their kids left the house. Wouldn't they always be worried? But somehow more than that, she wondered at the way he stepped forward as her cheeks blushed again under his reminder of her news and response to it. She wasn't quite sure what he was doing, but she actually managed not to tense up even though she expected herself to.

Turns out, evidently, that she actually kind of trusted this guy. What in the world?

His hand fell to the counter beside hers, not touching but close enough that she had to lift her chin to look up at him. "I had a talk with Henry today," she told him suddenly. One of Killian's eyebrows went up, but he didn't push, just sort of inclined his head towards her encouragingly. "I think he actually quite likes you."

Much to her surprise, he looked down at his feet, ears turning a bit red, and she found herself grinning at him almost fondly. "Well," Killian replied, "he's a great kid, so I'm glad to hear that."

Emma waited until he looked at her again before shrugging in a sort of dramatic way. "Yeah, well I'm awesome with kids," she teased, dropping the demeanor in favor of a more genuine tone. "My mom was a teacher, so I guess I'm lucky I got that from her. She's been a great example."

"She sounds lovely," he mused. Emma wasn't sure, but something about his eyes struck her as sad, and then she remembered what he'd said about losing his parents at an early age. His lips pressed together into a line as sympathy filtered onto her face. "Emma..." he shook his head a little.

While she didn't want to ruin the good mood they'd been sharing since picking him up, she didn't want to brush off something so personal after he had made himself late to work that morning to comfort her. Emma moved her hand towards his, fingers brushing over the back and drawing his attention down to where they were touching.

"Emma," he repeated, uncertain now.

She took a tiny step forward, her hand drifting up his arm. "Killian, if you ever want to talk about... well, anything, you can come to me. I'm the last person that's going to judge you after all of this."

Killian reached up, tucking a section of her hair behind her ear as he finally cracked a smile. "Thank you. Another time, perhaps, yeah? Your boy won't be very pleased with me anymore if we don't get around to eating."

A bright, surprised laugh left her lips as she nodded, giving his arm a squeeze before stepping around him to pick up the little stack of plates they had taken out of the cupboard earlier.

* * *

Henry, mercifully, loved what they had made, and was openly animated about it. He even made a point of sneaking the last garlic bread slice when his mother wasn't looking, though he knew full well she wouldn't mind. It was just a sudden inside joke with Killian, really.

Emma pretended not to notice.

"Well, gentlemen," she began as she started collecting her dishes to move them to the sink, "thank you for making dinner." Her cup settled on top of her plate, and as she passed her boy, watching the wide grin grow across his face, she fluffed his hair. "You still need to do your homework, don't you?"

He sighed, but nodded reluctantly. "Yeah. I did history earlier, though. Just have science and math left."

Killian glanced at Emma, the caution on his face confusing her, before he reached over to pick up Henry's plate and stack it on his. "You need any help with those assignments, Henry?"

Both the boy and his mom looked up, somehow consistently shocked by the Irishman's actions. But then Henry nodded, saying that he was going to go collect his things after a bathroom break. So Emma bit back her smile, completely unable to believe how, just, _normal_ this all felt. It scared her, though, that she already felt like she could get used to Killian's presence in her life. It had only been a couple of weeks, but for once she didn't feel like she just needed to run and push someone away.

Should she, though?

Emma turned her head as he came up alongside her with a rather impressive stack of dishes from the table, waiting until she shifted out of the way to carefully slide them into the soapy water. He lingered, then reached out for a dish towel to start drying beside her. But she could feel the way his attention kept sliding to her rather than to what he was doing.

"You alright, lass?"

Emma stopped, glancing over her shoulder to check for Henry, before she dried her hands on the spare towel tucked around the handle of the cabinet beneath the sink. He, too, stilled and set down the dish he'd been working on. As their eyes met, she was almost surprised at how her breath caught. If she only learned one thing, that day, it was that Killian had the uncanny ability to make her feel like nothing and nobody else mattered when he was looking at her.

Emma almost couldn't remember, but then it hit her: he'd asked her a question.

"I... it's been a crazy day. But I'm... good. Great, almost."

"Almost?" Killian returned, an amused smirk transforming his feature instantly.

She lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug, unable to keep the smile from her face. "Yeah, well... Evening's not over yet. I guess I'm not surprised you offered to help him, but we'll see how that goes. I thought I knew math until he brought home his assignment at the start of the year and I realized I'm completely lost."

As Henry walked back in with his textbooks and some spare paper, Killian chuckled and gestured towards the table. Not for Henry, though, but for Emma. "You're welcome to join the lesson, Emma."

He turned towards the table but his eyes lingered on her until she rolled her eyes, abandoned the dishes, and walked over to sit beside him.

* * *

Just over an hour and a half later, Henry was just about falling asleep in his chair. But on the plus side, his work was done and he actually even seemed to understand it. Even Emma was pleased to say that she had followed along – and happily so. Although she tried not to crowd him, considering he had Henry to deal with on the other side as well, Killian was actually quite engaging as a teacher. And he was far more patient with these subjects than Emma was, so it wasn't surprising that both she and her son felt pretty relieved at the change of pace.

Nevertheless, it was getting late, and she leaned forward on the table to catch Henry's eye. "You should get ready for bed, kid. It's late for a school night."

Henry sighed, but didn't argue it, thankfully. Instead, he turned to Killian and smiled at him. "Thanks for the help. Are you coming out with us on Saturday, too?"

Killian tilted his head, eyebrow lifting in question.

"Uh," Emma cut in quickly, "I actually was going to talk to you about that first, Henry."

"Oh," he returned with a shrug. "Well, you should, Killian." And then he hopped up, leaving his books for the next morning, and trotted off to his room.

His mother just shook her head, leaning back in her chair with mild amazement. He was a great kid, but sometimes he was just overly optimistic. When Emma turned her head towards their guest, though, he was just looking at her quizzically.

She laughed a little. "His birthday is on Saturday, and we're having lunch with my parents and Neal's father." His expression turned rather cloudy, so she reached out, her hand settling on his arm atop the table. "Mr. Gold is nothing like him. He's... serious, sure, and can be intimidating. But he adores Henry. He's the one that's always tried to give me money since Neal's been, just, gone. Before that, he'd be off for weeks or months, unable to be contacted. And, I mean, I try to tell him he doesn't have to, but at birthdays and Christmas, it's always the same story."

Killian nodded, clearly accepting her small smile and half-shrug for what it was: an understanding that, in some ways, she and Henry were lucky to have Mr. Gold in their life. "Well," he mused reluctantly, "at least one of them is looking out for you two."

Emma wasn't sure what else to say, and instead let her eyes fall to the array of papers and books that Henry had left behind. "He really likes you."

"And you, lass?" he asked after a moment. It was a near repeat of his question that morning, and her attention snapped back to his, their gazes locking.

"... Yes. Henry and me."

A wide, thrilled smile grew across his face, and he reached across with his left hand to cover the one of hers on his forearm. "Perhaps I need to regain my courage and start going by the pub more regularly, then."

She nodded immediately, shifting in her seat to face him. "I've missed you. I mean, I was mad a lot of the time but... you know."

"Aye," he agreed. "Completely understandable. I wasn't... I didn't behave as I should have."

"It's okay, Killian. You convinced me to finally take that step and learn the truth. I'm pissed at Neal, obviously, but I'm glad I know."

His eyes fell to her neck, clearly searching for the necklace that was no longer there, but lifted back to hers. He looked like he felt a bit lighter and Emma couldn't help but smile.

"You'll come on Saturday, then?" she asked cautiously. Meeting her parents, much less Neal's father, had to be a daunting concept. She wouldn't blame him if he said no.

"If you and the lad want me there, then of course I will."

Emma laughed quietly, but squeezed his arm. "Oh, I think it's pretty clear that we do. I promise I'll try and keep my dad in line."

"Somehow, it's not _your_ father I'm worried about, Emma."

"That's fair."

Henry's door opened down the hall and he wandered back out in his pajamas, reminding Emma of Killian's lack of a car. "Mom?"

"Hey, buddy. I'm going to drive Killian home, I think," she told him, her fingers shifting just slightly over Killian's arm in question. "Will you be okay if I lock the door? I won't be long, but I can always call grandpa and see if he'll stop by if you'd rather."

"I'm okay," he promised, waving a hand towards his room. "I might read until you get back, though?"

It came out as more of a question, and she understood straight away that he was nervous about it. Killian must have, too, because he made a decision, patting her hand before releasing her. "I don't mind walking," he said firmly. "My place isn't even that far. Probably half way between here and the factory. And I've got a good coat."

Henry shrugged like he wouldn't have minded, but as he bid them goodnight and returned to his room, Emma smiled gratefully at Killian. As it was certainly time for him to head home, given the direction of their conversation and their desire to avoid keeping Henry awake with their talking, they both stood and sort of wandered towards the front door.

She leaned against the entryway wall as he slipped his coat on, but their silence was nothing if not loaded. And neither of them seemed capable of tearing their eyes from each other. Finally, Killian stepped forward, reaching out somewhat hesitantly. "Do you work tomorrow?"

Emma took his hand, casually at first before lacing her fingers between his. "Yeah. But... not on Friday," she tilted her head and smiled cheekily.

"Is that right?" he chuckled. "Well then. Maybe your parents wouldn't mind watching Henry so I can take you to dinner?"

"Maybe," she confirmed. Her hand slipped into her back pocket, pulling forth her phone. She unlocked it with one hand, but released him to hold it out, open to the keypad page. "But you should probably call me tomorrow to be sure."

He lifted that eyebrow of his, but that time there was something different about it. His eyes flashed with victory, a proud smirk transforming his face and surprising her with how her pulse skipped. Once he added his contact to her phone, she looked down at it, then dialed until it rang to be sure he'd have her number as well.

"Alright, then, Mr. Jones," she teased, glad to finally know his last name. It felt more valid, somehow. "You better not forget."

"As if I could."

Emma realized that she hadn't even meant the full context of her warning, but as soon as he replied she certainly did. There was no way she could deal with being left behind again. His tone offered an implicit promise, regardless of their short time together, and she couldn't help but allow herself to rely on it.

Then, no matter what propriety demanded, she ignored the fact that tonight hadn't actually counted as a first date. In her mind, she allowed herself to hope. To put a bit of faith in him. And as Killian reached out to open the door, then pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, Emma stepped into the doorway. She sighed, feeling bizarrely content, and watched until he was out of sight down the stairs.


	9. Chapter 9

He did call the next day. Before she went to work, luckily, which meant she was actually able to answer him. He reached out in the early afternoon, and Emma grinned at her phone before rushing to swipe it open and greet him.

"Hi," she said gently, surprising herself with the subconscious changes she made with her body in anticipation of talking to him. Her hand went to her hair and she sank against the arm of her couch, trying to figure out why she suddenly felt shy. Perhaps because she hadn't dated since Neal, which was quite literally a decade earlier. Or perhaps because she and Killian had done things out of order thus far, and were only just starting to get back on track.

Either way, she wasn't prepared for the deep, accented rumble of his voice in her ear. Emma was pretty sure she blushed as he replied, though she wasn't about to tell him so.

"Hello, Emma. Not a bad time, I hope?"

She smiled a little and shook her head despite knowing he couldn't see her. "No, this is good. I head to work in a couple hours. Aren't you in the office today?" She didn't want him to be interrupting his day just for her.

"I'm on lunch break, actually. I thought now would be better than trying to call tonight. Your lad's staying with his grandparents tonight, is he?"

"Henry loves staying with them. Usually they bring him here so he can go to bed before I get home on school nights."

Killian paused, and Emma wasn't sure if he was just contemplating what she said or if he was pausing to take a drink or bite of something. "Must be tiring to get home late and wake up early to take him to school."

"I get to come home and nap, so it's not so bad," she laughed, her head tilting to lean against the back of the couch. "He's good about waking up early, though, which I can only assume he got from my parents."

"Well, how upset do you think they'll be if you're out late tomorrow night?"

"... I suppose that depends on the reason," she returned, the smirk undoubtedly evident in her tone. She knew her point had been made when he chuckled quietly. "What's the plan, then, Jones?"

"Believe it or not, I've no intention of making your parents dislike me. So while I would usually try and find a place to go dancing, that'll have to wait until next time."

Emma's eyebrow lifted dramatically, surprised by that entire second sentence. "I- … Dancing? I don't dance."

"Correction: you've not had a good partner before."

An awkward silence fell, until Killian cleared his throat and spoke again. "Emma, I didn't mean-"

"I know."

Had her voice been colder, perhaps it would've ruined everything. But she meant it genuinely. She understood that It wasn't a jab at her or Neal, but rather a joke gone wrong. So she did her best to turn things around.

"I get it, Killian. Really. And when we get more comfortable with … whatever this is, I would love to go dancing with you. I hear there's a great place in Rockland that's sort of Twenties. Ruby loves it."

"Perhaps she's like to bring someone and join us. If you want. But as you said, that's for later. I was thinking tomorrow we'd just go for Italian, if that suits you."

Unfortunately, despite turning things back around, Killian didn't have very long after that before someone came to find him and ask for help. She heard a muffled question from who she had to assume was his co-worker, inquiring if Killian was still on the phone with _his girl_. An embarrassed version of Killian's voice replied away from the phone, correcting the misunderstanding ( _"I- she's not my... But, yes, still on the phone."_ ) and asking for a minute to end the call.

"Emma? Still there?"

"Yeah," she smiled, oddly charmed by his propriety and shyness.

He cleared his throat. "Right, well. Okay, so I have to go, lass, but I'll pick you up tomorrow night?"

She almost couldn't believe he was still uncertain, but it was terribly endearing all the same. Emma was consistently surprised by him, and found it hard to believe that she would ever stop feeling that way about him. She seriously hoped she was right, and that she would have the opportunity to be proven right. No matter how horrifying it was to realize she didn't want her time with him to come to a close. Not soon, anyway. He was the first real chance she'd taken in over ten years, and Gods, she hoped it went well. She hoped that Henry wanted it, too. Or that he could at least accept it, to start with.

"Killian," she said almost teasingly, "don't sound so scared. I'm looking forward to it. Just tell me when to be ready."

"Seven." Ah, there he was. Bolder, now, if not confident.

"Perfect."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Emma."

And after a reluctant end to their call, she closed her eyes and allowed herself a moment of indulgence, smiling before heading to the shower and later, to work. She was sorely disappointed that she didn't see Killian at all that night, but could admit that it hardly made sense for him to call her and make plans when he could've done so at the Bell Curve that evening.

Ruby, between her bizarrely flirtatious conversations with that Dr. Whale guy, found the news of Emma's date utterly fascinating.

"When are you telling your parents?" she asked as Emma came back behind the bar. "You think they'll be worried?"

Emma just shook her head, pressing her lips together in consideration. "No, I don't think they'll mind. I told them about what happened with Neal's company, and why I did it. I actually think they'll be okay with it, which is crazy. But I have to ask them to watch Henry tomorrow, so I guess I'll tell them when I get home."

She passed Ruby a mildly concerned glance but she didn't really have it in her to be worried in advance. Either they would panic and she'd talk them down, or they would be hopeful and supportive and things would be fine. Why work herself up over it twice?

At the end of the night, she was hurrying to clean up when she realized someone was still here. And even crazier, they were helping Ruby clean up. Emma lifted a questioning eyebrow as the brunette glanced over, but Ruby just shook her head quickly, demanding silence on the matter. In fact, Ruby even waved her hands towards the door, all but shoo-ing Emma before she'd finished her closing tasks. As surprised as she felt, Emma wasn't about to turn down the offer to escape early.

When she made it home, she was glad to find that Henry was asleep but her parents were still up, watching the late night news.

"Emma! You're home early," her mother said by way of greeting.

"Well, Ruby had plans and knew I needed to talk to you guys, so she said I should head home."

David sat forward, curious if a little wary. "Talk to us about what?"

Emma hung up her coat, walking over to sit in the chair opposite the couch where they had settled. She still wasn't sure if she had reason to be nervous or not, though. "Well... You know how Killian came over last night to see us?" She waited until they both nodded before doing so herself and continuing on. "He, um, he was wonderful with Henry. Helped with dinner, and with Henry's homework and..."

Her mother was grinning widely, prompting a furious blush on their daughter's face. "That's great, Emma."

Her father was clearly less convinced, but he tried his best to be polite. "So it went well."

"It did," she confirmed. "Killian actually- he asked me to go to dinner with him tomorrow. So I was hoping you'd watch Henry again? I know you already do it, like, all the time, but-"

"Emma, we love helping with Henry," Mary Margaret interrupted. "And you deserve to be happy. Maybe this won't work out perfectly, but maybe it will. It's worth trying, right?"

She nodded slowly, her eyes flicking over to her dad a little nervously. His jaw was clenched and his shoulders tensed, but he wasn't voicing any protests. So that was something, right? At least sort of a good sign? Emma sighed, rubbing a little at her eyes. "It's just... I've made so many mistakes. Not Henry, obviously, but... it feels kind of ridiculous to be ten years out and trying to date again."

"Lots of people marry late," David told her firmly. "It doesn't matter when, so much as who."

Mary Margaret passed him a thoroughly adoring look and Emma could only hope that she would end up as happy as the pair of them. They'd been so lucky to find themselves early, though they had been rational about not having a baby too early, waiting for their careers to be settled first. Their daughter hadn't done anything right, by their standards, and she knew, now, that it was entirely her fault. Their praise of Lily had been their attempt at encouragement, and she wished she'd seen it sooner. She wished, too, that she hadn't pushed Lily away when the other girl went off to college. Perhaps she would try reaching out to her soon, if she found her courage.

"Well," Emma mused finally, "I'm supposed to be ready at seven tomorrow, so..."

"We'll pick him up at school. It's a Friday, so I doubt he'll mind staying at ours."

She offered her mother a grateful smile, then turned it towards her father as well. "Thanks. I'll call you when I'm on the way over to get him."

Mary Margaret shook her head with a laugh. "Don't worry about it. He can spend the night."

"What?" David snapped, eyebrows raised.

"I meant, Henry," she returned as she rolled her eyes. "Honestly, David."

* * *

The next day felt endless. After dropping Henry off, she'd gone down to the Bell Curve to help Ruby with some delivery unboxing. She also tried to pry about the doctor but, much to Emma's surprise, Ruby was having none of it. Instead, they jokingly debated what Emma should wear, and about whether or not Killian was too gentlemanly to go for a kiss at the end of the night.

It merely served to make her nervous, when she hadn't really been before.

The only real benefit of their conversation was that she didn't end up standing in front of her closet for ages after returning home. Instead, she decided not to question the unfailing fashion advice of her best friend, and drew out the dress she had advised. That was carefully draped over the end of her bed so she could hop into the shower, and then dry and curl her hair before stepping into the dress and tights. She only applied the minimal style of makeup that she knew she wouldn't mess up or overdo.

The knock sounded at the door only a minute after seven, perhaps to prove punctuality as much as to avoid rushing her. Emma drew in a steadying breath, checked that her phone, keys and wallet were in her jacket pockets, and then opened the door.

Killian had donned a pair of dark jeans, and Emma could see the blue of his button-down peeking out above the top of his coat. The color of it was reflected in his dark, ocean-deep eyes as he blinked at her. For a moment, she actually wondered if he was disappointed, because it took several seconds for him to finally break into a smile.

"Hi," he said, his voice a mix of what Emma thought was excitement and nerves. "You ready, lass?"

She smiled as she returned the greeting with a nod, stepping out and closing the door behind her. When she looked up after locking the door, she found him still smiling at her. Killian offered his arm with a bit of a dramatic flourish, making her laugh and breaking through that awkward first-date tension they had going.

He opened the passenger side door for her, and although she immediately hoped he wouldn't do that every time (because, come on. She could open car doors herself), it _was_ charming that he'd gone out of his way to do it the first time to make an impression. Once he slid in beside her, Emma almost had to wonder how long he'd been driving in the States, considering the different traffic rules. But he seemed confident, showing no hesitation as he set the car in reverse and backed out of the parking spot, turning them towards the small 'downtown' portion of Camden.

"How was work?" she asked as they settled in and the car started to warm through her clothes.

"Good," Killian replied with a smile, glancing at her as he slowed to a stop at an intersection then continued. "I have a new project I'm working on, and I've been trying to get permission for it over the past few months, so it's nice to finally be starting that."

Emma shifted in her seat to look at him rather than at the road. "What kind of project?"

"I'm doing something that's sort of.. half research-based, and half experimenting with design. But basically I'm trying to improve safety measures on smaller ships."

He didn't have to say why it meant so much to him. Emma already had a suspicion that she was pretty sure she was right about: his hand. At the next red light, he looked over at her to gauge the reason for her silence, and his expression softened from a false sort of comfort with the topic to an acceptance that she'd worked it out. His right hand reached for her left, holding on even as the light changed and he pressed the gas again.

"It's alright, Emma. I'll tell you the whole story someday, I promise. But it's a bit grim for a night out, so perhaps later?"

"You don't have to tell me until you want to, Killian. Really. It sounds a little scary, so I certainly understand not wanting to relive it." Her thumb brushed over the back of his hand and he nodded, focusing properly on the road again.

She was only half surprised when he pulled into Marco's, managing to snag a close spot despite how busy the restaurant always was. Emma made a point to get out of the car when he did, trying to make it clear that he didn't have to try so hard. That he could just relax and be himself and she would still be thrilled to be there with him. Still, she gave him a warm smile as he reached for her hand again, and leaned into his arm as they walked in to claim the reservation he had apparently made.

At their table, though, she managed to surprise him.

That was when she took off her coat, revealing the deep red of the simple dress Ruby had praised so highly, her curls falling casually down her back and in front of one shoulder as she draped the coat over the back of her chair. And Killian, who had been doing the same with his own jacket, stopped to stare at her.

Emma blushed immediately, the color rising up her neck and into her cheeks as she looked down at the dress almost in question.

"Lass..." he attempted, shaking his head a little. "I already knew you were beautiful, but you look stunning, Emma."

She beamed under his praise, finding that she didn't need the approval but that it was certainly nice to hear after so long with just Henry and his almost surprised comments about the rare times she dressed up. _Why are you dressed so nice, Mom?_

The meal itself was simple. Emma already knew what she liked, there, and was able to reach across the table to make suggestions based on his expressed interest in pesto and Alfredo. Their waiter was obviously new, and Emma was thoroughly embarrassed by the way they paid her too much attention and Killian not enough. Couldn't the guy tell they were on a date? She frowned at him as he went off to place their orders, but Killian merely seemed amused.

"Don't look so upset," he told her with a smirk that was far more attractive than it should've been. "I've no problem with being reminded of how lucky I am to be out with you."

"Killian..."

He held his hands up in a joking sort of surrender. "Merely trying to ease the tension."

"I know. It's just... unusual, for me." When his eyebrows pulled together a little, she let herself smile across the table at him. "I'm so happy to be here, though. Truly."

As they waited for and then ate their meal, he told her about his childhood in Ireland, the countryside he was so sure she'd love, and the things he had learned in the Navy. She talked about her parents, and Henry's favorite things, and how she used to be a bailbondsperson, which he found both fascinating and worrying at once. Emma certainly couldn't blame him; even now her parents were afraid she'd go back to that job, she thought.

After Emma stood up to go to the bathroom when Killian made it clear she wasn't allowed to pay the bill, she sank back into her chair and waited to see what the plan was. And when he made a joke about getting her back on time, she had to look away to hide her embarrassment.

"What?" he asked, tilting his head and lifting that damn eyebrow.

"Um," Emma reached up to her neck, trying not to blush yet again. "Well, Henry's staying over at my parents' tonight." She looked up at him and shrugged one shoulder. "No curfew tonight."

His eyes darkened slightly but he just smiled. "I'm not the type to break rules, Miss Nolan. Navy man and all. And I'm fairly certain that first dates ought to maintain some sort of schedule nonetheless."

"Well, then, Lieutenant," she replied with a smirk, leaning forward over the table, "perhaps you ought to take me home."

Killian grinned, and the glint in his eyes made something spark in her stomach. She was hardly one to jump into things that quickly, but Gods, if she wasn't attracted to this man.

Their waiter returned, looking almost nervous and chastised, Emma shot Killian a disapproving look. He certainly shouldn't have told the poor guy off for basically doing nothing. But Killian gestured with a hand towards the waiter, unperturbed. She turned her head to find him moving to set down the receipt and Killian's card, along with a single white carnation.

Although Emma looked up at the waiter in question, he refused to make eye contact and instead backed away after wishing them a good evening.

"I don't think he liked my request for help," Killian mused as she stared at the flower. Emma looked over, still mildly confused. "I didn't tell him to back off or anything, lass. I thought it quite evident we were on a date, but evidently it wasn't until I asked."

She pressed her lips together, attempting to hide her amusement at his obvious frustration with the whole ordeal. "It's beautiful, Killian, thank you."

"These," he said, picking up the flower and holding it out in front of her, "are sort of spectacular. Kind of like magic. You can change the color as much as you'd like with food dye. They were me Mam's favorite."

Emma reached out, not just for the flower but for his hand, holding it with him. "Oh, Killian..." She had never believed in magic until she experienced it with her son, but he was quickly introducing her to a whole new kind that she didn't realize was missing with Neal. She'd loved him, sure, but perhaps not for the right reasons or in the right way. "This... this whole night, it means so much to me. You have no idea."

"Ah, but I think I do."

They shared a little moment of quiet, comfortable understanding before he nodded towards the door.

"Shall we?"

Emma let go of his hand to take the flower, setting it down reverently so she could pick up her coat and slide it back on. After briefly checking her pockets to make sure nothing had fallen out, she picked up the flower again and suddenly wondered about its appearance. "How did you do it?" she asked as he took her hand and led her towards the door. "How did you get this here?"

"Magic," he teased with a wink, only to shake his head and explain properly. "I befriended the owner this afternoon, and he kept it safe for me."

"You're kind of incredible," she decided, pressing against him to try and hide from the cold outside.

And while it should have been horribly cheesy, his response was said so genuinely that she actually believed him.

"You give me good reason to be."

Emma should have waited, she knew that. But she glanced up, found him gazing down at her so fondly she almost couldn't breathe, and came to an immediate halt in front of his car.

"Lass?"

Holding the flower safely out of the way, she decided to forgo responding and instead reached up to his neck, giving a firm tug so she could meet him half way for a freezing and yet somehow warm and perfect kiss. It was fierce, as far as first kisses went, but Killian wrapped his arms around her even as the wind whipped her hair about. Holy shit, could he kiss. The light stubble of his jaw brushed against her skin as he tilted his head and lifted a hand to her hair to help change the angle.

When she couldn't hold on anymore and her knees felt uncharacteristically weak, she broke away and gasped for air. Killian pressed his forehead to hers, his hands rubbing her arms to try and scare away the cold.

"Bloody hell," he murmured, breathing heavily.

Emma bit her lip before cracking a smile and whispering, "I really like you."

"And I you, Emma." He kissed her forehead before leaning away and gesturing towards the car. "But I think we ought to get you home, where it's warm."

He held her hand all the way back to her apartment, asking what color she'd turn the flower (red, probably) and if she was happy with her choice for dinner. It seemed so normal that she almost managed to ignore the way her lips still tingled as they walked up the stairs to her door.

"You're coming tomorrow, right?" she asked, suddenly shy.

"What should I bring Henry?"

"You don't have to buy him anything, Killian. He'll just be glad you're there with us."

He reached up to scratch behind his ear, looking down at his feet. "You're sure he's good with this? I know you spoke with him but I... I don't want to get between you and your family, for any reason."

Emma lifted a hand to his cheek, brushing her thumb over his skin. "I know. Henry really does want you there. It was his idea, after all. He only qualified his acceptance of this with the whole 'if he hurts you, I'm telling grandpa' sort of thing."

"Considering your father was a sheriff, I certainly don't take that lightly. But I have no intention of hurting you."

She lifted up onto her toes, hovering just in front of his lips and glancing at him from beneath her lashes. "I know," she assured him, beyond pleased when he took the cue and moved forward to kiss her, but gently that time.

Killian brought both hands to her jaw, only to pull away a few moments later. Emma's pout made him laugh openly, tucking a section of hair behind her ear. "What's wrong, love?"

"We can't do this tomorrow, you know." She lifted her eyebrow in blatant imitation of him.

"Oh," he said seriously. "Well, in that case."

He leaned back in, taking a half step forward until Emma was leaned up against her door, his hand cradling the back of her head. When his tongue glanced over her bottom lip she gasped, giving him the chance to gently nip at it with his teeth. She heard herself let out a breathy sound that had him pulling away immediately.

"I should go," he groaned reluctantly.

"Wait-"

"Emma."

The warning in his voice made her pulse jump even higher, but she shook her head. "No, I-... I just wanted to know, for tomorrow... how you want me to introduce you."

Killian's expression turned soft and serious, and he stood up straight, taking her free hand in both of his. "I know it's only been the one date, but you must know how serious I am about this. I wouldn't have inserted myself into your boy's life if I weren't."

Emma nodded, though her uncertainty must have shown on her face. What did that mean?

"I would be honored, Emma, to call you my girlfriend."

And as silly as she felt to have that title when she was nearly thirty, raising a son alone and bringing him to meet the grandfather of her child the next day, the smile that grew across her face was bigger and more beautiful than any she had managed in nearly ten years.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hello again! Points go to A True Oncer, who caught the reference to Emma's apartment in Boston, which was number 205. Perhaps I'll make a game out of this again down the line! :D Also massive thanks to the folks who left lovely reviews for Chapter 9 (A True Oncer, Kiwistreetswan, Ihazpotato and Ness fan 01). I'm still baffled that this is on Chapter 10 already. When did this happen? Haha.**

 **As a side note, I know Henry's birthday is August 15 by canon, but it fits the story better this way and it's an AU sooooooo... Forgive me XD For reference, this is early December, first week-ish.**

* * *

The next morning, Emma woke late, and found that she was actually still pretty exhausted. Falling asleep had been nearly impossible with Killian on her mind. She'd actually thought about texting him, but given how pathetic that would probably seem, she'd of course decided not to do so. Instead, she'd tossed and turned and not tried all that hard to erase the sense memory of the way he kissed.

So maybe she'd gone a little overboard on that front. But who would really blame her?

And, besides – Killian had clearly been all for it, too.

She grinned into her pillow, admittedly feeling pretty silly for doing so. Emma felt that she deserved a bit of giddiness before whatever was going to happen that afternoon. If Gold or her father ruined Henry's birthday, she'd have absolutely none of it. Funny how she wasn't worried about Killian, though.

They were due for lunch at Henry's favorite restaurant, and Emma suddenly wondered if she would still be working at that bar by the time Henry was old enough to actually drink, but she supposed it wouldn't matter because by then he'd be off at school for his birthday anyway. She hadn't meant to get all sad, suddenly, but there it was. Her little boy was growing up. Ten years old! Gods.

Deciding she had no real reason to dress up like she had the night before, she went for warmth instead, tugging on tights beneath her jeans, along with a soft white sweater and her fluffy, leather winter coat. As much as she loved the red one, it wasn't exactly appropriate for this time of year.

Her phone buzzed as she drank her un-doctored coffee in the kitchen, but this time it wasn't a horrid email. It was her _boyfriend_. And not Neal, either.

 **Good morning, lass. Sleep well?**

Emma smiled, setting her mug down to pick up her phone and type out a response.

 _Morning! It took me a while to fall asleep, I'll admit._

It took less than a minute for him to respond, and she could practically hear the concern that would've been in his voice if he had been there to say the words aloud.

 **Did something happen after I left? I** **thought** **things seemed rather good.**

 _What? Killian, no. Yesterday was perfect! It was just_ _hard to sleep when I wished it wasn't over._

She was in the middle of typing out further explanation, trying to find the words, when the screen went dark and her ringtone went off, Killian's name written in large letters across it. She hit the answer button, lifting it to her ear in surprise. "Killian?"

"I might sound a bit silly, lass, but last night was easily the best time I've had in quite a while. I mean that."

"I don't think you sound silly," she replied softly, warmed through with his words. "You're not calling because you're nervous about today, are you?"

His answering chuckle was very telling, considering how uncomfortable he sounded. "I trust your judgment, Emma. And your lad wants me there. So I'll hold strong and all, but I don't know how pleased your father and Mr. Gold will be. Have they said anything?"

"Oh," she breathed, hand pausing on its way back to her coffee. "I... don't know if they know yet. Henry probably told my parents."

"... But not his other grandfather."

They both paused, and Emma finally took a drink to fill the awkwardness. Finally, she sighed and set the empty mug in the sink. "It'll be fine, I promise. It's been so long, Killian. He's got no right to be upset about this. Gold might be protective and all, but that's not so surprising, is it? He wants the best for Henry. He really does."

"I know. Just feels... fast."

Her heart sank instantly. "I-..." Emma faltered, staring out the window and trying to figure out what that meant for them. "It's okay if you don't want to go."

"Emma. Love, no. I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry. Don't worry about it, not today."

"But, I don't want you to be uncomfortable, or-"

Killian cut in, a bit more firm this time. "Lass. I only meant that they might think us mad."

She let out an awkward, breathy laugh. "Are we?"

"Well, … Probably, yeah. But it seems like it's working for us so far."

To be fair, she had to concede him that point. It wasn't the craziest story she'd ever heard about people getting together, after all, and at least they were both doing their utmost to remain responsible and realistic. And, most importantly, they were both open about what they wanted and what they knew would be a problem for them in the future. But before they could think about what would come for them down the road, they had to get through today. She had to support him through his obvious concern.

"Are you ready to go?" Emma asked him suddenly, tone lifted and more positive.

"Uh, yes, I think so." She could practically hear his eyebrow lifting. "Why?"

"I'm picking you up. Then Henry and I can take you home after."

After another minute or two of half-hearted debate on Killian's side, Emma was grabbing her keys and typing his address into the Maps app on her phone just to be sure she went to the right place. It wouldn't look great if they showed up late, as well as together.

He was waiting outside when she pulled up, so she didn't even have to turn off the car. It was helpful for keeping the warmth in, but Emma didn't drive off straight away. Instead, she held her hand out for his, knowing full well that he might be reluctant to take it with his injured one. Killian met her gaze but reached past her hand, brushing his fingers over her cheek.

"I know what you're up to," he told her with a little smile. Emma feigned confusion but he just shook his head and leaned over to replace his fingers with a kiss against her blushing cheek. "Thank you, lass." His hand found hers. "Let's go celebrate with your boy."

She grinned at him, somehow pleased to be caught out in her scheming of sorts, and started off towards the diner Henry loved so well. Mercifully, they arrived before any of the others, so Emma checked in with the host, who confirmed that it was perfectly fine to add another person. With their square tables, six was just as easy to accommodate as five. So the girl led them over to a long table made up of two put together.

Slipping their jackets off and onto the back of two chairs on the long side of the table, Emma could well have sat down but lingered instead. "We'll try and convince Henry to sit by you," she told Killian as her hands curled gently around his arm, thumbs rubbing soothingly. "Then we can sit my parents across and Gold by me. That sound good?"

"Whatever suits, lass. I'll manage. Promise."

His eyes dropped from hers to her lips, and no matter how tempted Emma may have been (which she obviously was, considering the gentle tug in her stomach that had her leaning towards him), there just wasn't time.

"Killian!"

Emma turned her head, lips parting in surprise at Henry's greeting. She wasn't quite bothered so much as bemused that he was so excited to see Killian instead of her. At least that would help with her new boyfriend's worries, right? She could only hope as much.

"Heya, mate," Killian greeted, his hand reaching out to pat Henry's shoulder.

But then it registered on his face – and for Emma, as well. If Henry was here, so were his grandparents. The ones on Emma's side, at the least. She turned around, releasing him to approach her parents as Henry chatted on about the best dishes at the diner.

Mary Margaret's eyebrows were raised dramatically, though if anything she looked approving of the man Emma had brought. David was, of course, less convinced.

"Emma?" her father began slowly, stopping a few feet away from the table and keeping his voice low. "Is that him?"

"He's so handsome," her mother offered conspiratorially, drawing a look of consternation from her husband.

Emma followed her mom's look, unable to do anything else but smile gently and reply with a quiet, "Yeah, he really is." She turned back to them, her happiness at Killian's being there making itself clear.

Mary Margaret grinned, her hand coming up to brush her daughter's cheek. "You look so happy, Emma. Dinner went well?"

Blushing, she nodded, inadvertently knocking her mother's hand away. Emma had never been the type to share about her dates or relationship with Neal, but for their peace of mind this time, it felt wrong to deny it. "We're... He- he asked me-"

"Oh!" Mary Margaret grinned, bouncing a little.

"Mom," Emma breathed, laughing and rolling her eyes a little. Henry's hand slipped into hers and it was only then that she realized they were still standing around, having left her boys ( _oh, gosh_ ) to their own devices. She ran a hand over Henry's hair, but then stepped back enough to gesture towards the nervous Irishman standing off to her side. "Mom, Dad, this is Killian Jones."

David thrust a hand forward, clearly judging Killian's handshake and eye contact. "David Nolan," he greeted. "And my wife, Mary Margaret."

Killian smiled, and though Emma could tell it wasn't completely right, he was clearly trying. "Pleased to meet you," he replied, his accent shocking Mary Margaret into shooting her daughter an amused look. "Emma has told me quite a lot about you both."

"And what about me?" asked a voice behind her parents.

David released Killian's hand, and even Henry looked a bit surprised. He, of course, didn't look as concerned as his mother, though.

"Mr. Gold," Emma greeted, falsely relaxed about it. Her parents stepped around, ushering Henry along. She didn't dare glance back and see if Henry sat on the right end of the table, by her and Killian's standards.

The older man stepped forward with the help of his cane, scrutinizing the pair of them right away. When she felt Killian start to extend his hand, she caught it and laced their fingers together to stop him.

"Mr. Gold," she repeated, this time waving a hand towards the man at her side, "this is my boyfriend, Killian."

Even though they all knew Neal's father couldn't be surprised by that title, his eyebrows went up and his head tilted curiously. "That right, dearie?"

Killian's hand gripped Emma's more tightly, and as she glanced up at him she realized he didn't like Gold's tone. She didn't either, really, but she was used to it by now. Gold was a good man in many ways, as he stuck to his word and did anything he could to help out Henry in his son's stead.

"It's recent," Killian offered by way of confirmation, his smile a little tight.

"Mom?" Henry called, rescuing them.

Emma spun around immediately, drawing Killian along behind her. Someone was looking out for her and Killian, because Henry had sat himself down in the chair next to Killian's coat-covered chair. As she passed by him, she leaned over to whisper her thanks and press a kiss to the side of her son's head.

The meal went quite well at first, considering they had simple small talk and the requirement that they place orders. But eventually, the big moment came.

"So, Mr. Jones," Gold began slowly. "What exactly do you do?"

His hand, which had found hers beneath the table, squeezed her fingers. They were resting atop his knee, but that just meant she could feel the way his leg started bouncing out of stress. He obviously understood Emma's stance on Neal's career, but more than that, she knew he wanted their approval.

"I work at the ship building factory in the bay. But, I'm working on the actual design rather than laying down parts," he explained rather carefully. "I, uh, actually just started a project I was telling Emma about. Before I left the royal navy, I lost people who were very close to me when a ship went down. That's part of why they granted me early leave."

Emma's eyes flicked to his left hand, remembering how he had explained his injury. Was it one and the same? Her free hand reached across to rub his arm despite the hold she already had on him. "Killian..." she whispered, only for him to shake his head and continue anyway.

"I'm just trying to see about adding some better safety features."

When Emma turned to look at the rest of the table, it was sort of a mixed bag as far as reactions went. Her mother was predictably quite distraught by the story, and her father actually looked like he felt a bit more respect for her new partner. Henry had always been a kind soul, and he was just sort of frowning at the pair of them in concern. Gold, most shockingly, was silent. Almost blank-faced.

And that was when Emma realized she had not contacted him about Neal and the news she'd received. Did he have any idea what was going on with his son? Did he wonder, as she had, whether his son had been lost to the sea as this friend of Killian's had? She made a mental note to show him the email before they left after lunch.

An uncomfortable laugh left Killian's lips. "I didn't intend to ruin the lunch." He scratched at the patch of skin behind his left ear. "Perhaps we ought to give the lad his gifts instead."

Mercifully, they left it alone and took his suggestion with an eagerness Emma was grateful for. As her parents and Mr. Gold leaned over to pick up the packages they'd carefully set beside their chairs, Emma turned towards Killian. Her present for Henry was at home, and she certainly had a plan for that. She was surprised, however, when she saw Killian reaching into the pocket of his coat.

"I told you," she murmured, leaning towards him, "you didn't have to get him anything."

"Don't be silly, lass," he returned with a smile. "To be fair, this is also partly for you, so." Killian shrugged, gently squeezing her hand once more.

Henry, as ever, was happy to show how grateful he was for the things he received, and Gold was equally normal with his gift of money towards Henry's fund. He would be able to access it once he turned twenty-one, and as thankful Emma was for that security, it felt so strange coming from Neal's father. She was impatient to understand what Killian meant about his gift, though.

When he passed the tiny box over to her son, Emma leaned forward onto the table, her curiosity impossible to hide. Henry looked at it for a moment before peeling away the tape and lifting the lid. She craned her neck a little to see what it was: a USB drive? She turned to blink at Killian, just as Henry did.

"Uh, thanks?" Henry attempted, his features all drawn together.

Killian chuckled, reaching over to point at it. "This has got all of me Mam's old recipes from back home. Since you and your mum like cooking together, I thought you might like to give some of these a go."

Henry's eyes went wide, just like his smile. "Oh, cool! Mom, look!" He held the drive up and then set it carefully back in its box. "Wow, thanks, Killian."

As for Emma, she could feel her heart racing at the thoughtfulness of his gift. He was right; it really was perfect for the both of them. What was with this guy? It was almost eerie how easily he affected her. She usually hated that. And, in truth, it made her realize just how quickly she had jumped into the relationship and accepted him. If Henry hadn't liked Killian, she would never have done any of this, but... he was okay with it. He actually seemed oddly pleased.

When Killian locked eyes with her, Emma knew that she undoubtedly looked confused. On the one hand, she felt more open with him than with almost anyone outside of her family (and maybe Ruby), but on the other, she wasn't sure she wanted to be. It was just too unpredictable, and that had never been the sort of situation that sat well with her. Neal had ensured that, hadn't he?

"Mom?" Henry asked, clearly wanting to question her lack of a gift but not wanting to be inappropriate – particularly in front of the others.

Emma's smile cooled down into something more normal and relaxed. "Don't you worry, kid. I've got something back at the apartment."

With that promise set up for him, Henry became far less subtle in regards to his desire to wrap things up. He stood, thanking each of them again, and Emma made sure to draw Gold aside to tell him what had happened. She didn't expect to feel so guilty about it afterwards, though. Though he tried to hide it with silence and then a quiet, reluctant _Thank you, Miss Nolan_ that was too polite, Emma could tell he was saddened by the news as well. She murmured her apology just before he waved a hand and excused himself to head home.

As she stood near the door, watching him go, her parents bid Killian and Henry farewell, only to come up alongside her.

"You told him?" David asked quietly.

Emma nodded. "Everybody knows, now. Much good it does us."

Her mother rubbed gently at her back but Mary Margaret just pursed her lips, shaking her head a bit. Finally, David pressed a kiss to the side of Emma's head, then ushered his wife towards the car as they tightened their coats around them. But over her shoulder, Mary Margaret offered a, "We like him."

 _Oh?_ Her eyebrows lifted, but she didn't know what to say in reply. They left and she tried to stamp down the not-so-mild surprise and growing concern.

"Emma?"

She turned, only to find Killian standing there with a hand casually resting on Henry's shoulder, her son looking comfortable as anything. Gods, she just couldn't catch a break, could she? It was just so much. Too much, maybe. She turned her attention to Henry instead.

"Good birthday so far, kid?"

"Awesome birthday," he corrected with a grin, glancing up at Killian and then back at her. "Are we taking Killian home?"

She nodded, pulling the keys from her pocket. Henry reached out, plucking them from her fingers and heading outside ahead of them. The car ride wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't exactly comfortable either. When they pulled up, Emma left the car running, but stepped out with him. Over the back of her seat, though, she gave Henry a quiet warning.

"Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone, okay? I just want to see how he's doing with all of the introductions today."

And Henry, true to form, just shrugged and nodded his acquiescence.

"Lass, are you alright?" Killian asked, seemingly surprised by her decision to join him. When they approached his door and were out of Henry's line of sight, he stopped her with a hand on her arm.

Emma frowned a little. "I... it's just that-." Her eyes flicked skyward, then out towards the parking lot, where Henry was likely growing bored. There was little chance he would come over to interrupt, though. He was such a good kid that she wasn't even sure how she'd managed to raise him herself.

"Emma?" he repeated, leaning forward a bit to try and catch her eye. "Have I done something wrong?"

"No," she blurted immediately, her fingers curling around his arms in a manner she hoped was comforting. "I'm just not used to someone putting me and Henry first. Not outside of my parents, who, y'know, sort of have to. I know they _want_ to, but... They raised me. They helped raise Henry. And you- You don't have to be like this."

He lifted an eyebrow skeptically. "Like what, exactly? I didn't mean to cross any lines, or-"

"Killian," she sighed, guilt eating away at her. "You don't understand. It's not a bad thing. I just don't know what to do, or how to act. Neal was never... I don't know, actually. It's like he knew how to make it seem like he understood me. But _you_ actually do. And yet you hardly know me."

Were her eyes tearing up? Gods, why? Emma blinked a little too rapidly, trying to reject the emotional response.

His hand reached up, fingers carding carefully through her hair. "I know it sounds insane, love, but somehow... It's like I knew you before we even spoke to each other. I can't explain it."

Emma shook her head. "No, I get it. That's exactly it. And that's... scary, Killian."

"I know."

She dropped her gaze to the sidewalk, but she could still see in her periphery when he looked out towards his door, likely trying to decide how to raise her spirits before she decided to leave. But she didn't give him a chance.

"Remember how I told you I like you?" she asked, meeting his gaze again. His eyebrows pulled together but he nodded. "That hasn't changed. Just- just so you know."

"Not for me, either," Killian told her firmly, smiling and leaning down in a silent request. Emma draped her arms behind his neck and met him halfway to fulfill it.

Unlike the almost unbelievable passion of the previous kisses, this one was purely sweet and comforting. One of her elbows bent so she could brush through his hair, and his arms wound around her back. But he pulled away and she let out a disapproving sigh. His chuckle brought the smile back to her face, though, chagrined as it was.

"Go on, lass. Give your boy his gift," Killian told her, clearly trying to convince himself to break away properly. "We're good. I promise."

Emma nodded, still close enough to brush his nose with hers. "Thank you," she murmured. "For understanding. And Henry's gift. And yesterday. All of it. I'm sorry I can be so confusing."

"For good reason, Emma. It's fine. And it was quite genuinely my pleasure."

She smirked, reaching up for a last, lingering albeit chaste kiss before finally stepping out of his arms. It made her feel bereft, though, and she felt herself slowing as she got further away. But the sight of Henry still sat patiently in the car made her cheeks warm with embarrassment. Once inside, she drove her kid home and showed him the gift she had set up while he was staying over at her parents'.

It was, of course, a game system that she figured he'd enjoy having as incentive for homework assignments. She didn't expect him to ask her to challenge him in the game she'd picked out to go along with the console, or for them to spend the entire evening playing and bonding like they hadn't done in ages.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, friends! I'm in the process of moving back home after my internship in NYC, so I've been trying to sell my furniture XD It's a nightmare. But only a week left and then I'll be home and back to my usual writing schedule :)**

* * *

In the weeks leading up to Christmas, Killian spent more and more time at the Bell Curve with Emma, Ruby and – however surprisingly, Victor. But he also volunteered to take Henry to school one morning when Emma had a routine dentist appointment, or came over to help make some of the more complicated recipes he had given to Henry. Emma, for her part, couldn't seem to get enough time with him.

It wasn't wholly unlike what had happened at the beginning with Neal. She'd been invested in that relationship as well, but it took her several weeks to realize what the difference was that had her so disoriented. Neal had truly done a lot to develop Emma's confidence, particularly when it came to her old job. But he had sort of just encouraged the ideas she came up with on her own. When their house was broken into in Boston and the police didn't seem to care (Emma suspected that was to do with who they were and how unfortunate the apartment had been), she became so frustrated that she suggested finding the thieves herself.

He'd just sort of shrugged, and probably figured she wouldn't be able to do it. But she had done, and the cop she brought the proof to had been so surprised he'd offered her a job that wasn't strictly on the books, but paid pretty well if she did her job right.

Killian, however, was very different in his approach with her.

He had ideas of his own, to start with, and ambition. But her ideas would be met with opinion, counter offers, or interested additions. And he did the same for Henry, treating him like they were equals, which frankly wasn't the case for Emma. It wouldn't matter how much she liked Killian or how long they dated; Henry would always come first for her. Always. And she'd made that very clear to him.

Dinners with Henry were an odd variation on date nights, but she didn't mind it. And Killian never voiced a complaint or concern. In fact, he bought a game for no reason other than wanting to play it with them, even bringing with him another controller to include Emma.

She was pretty sure her father never really worked out why her mother kept suggesting they host dinners, or why Emma always _happened_ to be talking to Killian when it was brought up so that he'd have to be invited. Most of the time it wasn't true, but she deeply appreciated the way her mother helped conspire against David with her. It was all in the hopes that her father would warm up to him and make him unconcerned enough that they didn't have to worry about it anymore.

The real test came when she sat down with her parents and Henry one night after work and the discussion of Christmas plans came up.

"Killian's coming over, right?" Mary Margaret asked straight away.

Emma leaned a little further back in her chair, closing herself off a little. "I hadn't asked."

"It's already the twentieth," Henry pointed out. "What if he makes other plans?"

"You want him here?" she asked him, somehow still slightly surprised by his enthusiasm when it came to their relationship.

Henry shrugged but nodded. "He's cool. I mean, he hasn't done anything wrong, has he?"

"Of course not."

David, who had sat forward at the question, slowly relaxed again. The opinion he voiced next actually made Emma's jaw drop: "He's certainly welcome. It would be good to have him." He blinked at his daughter, then at the other two as well. "What?"

Mary Margaret just smiled at him warmly and patted his arm rather than trying to explain. So that evening, when Killian stepped into the Bell Curve with his coworkers, Emma abandoned Ruby for a second to walk around the bar and meet him.

"Emma," he greeted warmly, leaning down to kiss her chastely.

She took his hand, leading him over to the spot that was practically reserved for him already at the bar. Although he often ended up at the table with his _mates_ from work, he usually started the evening with her.

"Killian!" one of the factory workers called after him. "Order us a round, yeah?"

He waved in confirmation but slid onto his seat and shifted his focus back to her. "How are you, lass?"

Emma smiled fondly at him as she moved around to start pouring their beer requests, but there was a quietness about her that she could feel and knew immediately he would pick up on too quickly. "I'm good. How's your research coming?"

"I actually had a great call today and might have worked something out as far as the legalities, so that's good. But I suspect that you, love, are stalling. What is it?"

His eyes were steady on her when she looked up, but he wasn't intimidating. Just patient. And that slowed her hands to a reluctant stop. It wasn't that she didn't want to invite him. She did. But it was a lot of pressure. Did he have to bring her parents gifts? What if Gold stopped by and it got awkward again? They hadn't talked about him or Neal very much since they got together a few weeks ago, so she didn't really know what Killian was thinking about as far as those fronts were concerned.

He lifted that eyebrow, his chin tipping forward slightly. It was seriously unfair how good-looking he was. Ugh.

She finally sighed and reached across the bar to brush her fingers almost shyly over the backs of his. "What are you doing for the holidays?"

Killian relaxed immediately, catching her hand before she could pull away or doubt herself. "Nothing, yet. What's the plan?"

Emma smiled, recognizing the fact that he was really just trying to make it easier on her. He could have admitted surprise, if he felt it at all, but instead he'd jumped ahead, letting her take the lead. It warmed her, and she ran her fingertips along his palm as she spoke. "We always go to my parents' house, and sometimes Gold stops by to drop off Henry's gift. He's usually quite polite about it, considering it's Christmas and all. Anyway, we were thinking you might want to come with us? Henry and I stay overnight on Christmas Eve but you don't have to."

"When you say _we_ , do you mean... you and Henry? I don't want to intrude."

Emma blushed, hoping the low lighting of the bar would cover most of it up. "It.. I'd been wondering if you had plans, but it was actually my parents' idea. Much like you, I don't like intruding on them either so I'd planned on maybe asking if you'd do it on another day."

"Any day, Emma," Killian teased with a smirk. One eyebrow lifted in confusion as she lifted up onto her toes and leaned forward over the ice bin that hung from the back of the bar. But then his smirk shifted into a fond, smaller smile and reached forward to meet her halfway for a brief kiss. When she pulled back, squeezed his hand and went back to prepping his friends' drinks, Killian continued. "But I'd be happy to go, truly. I have to work through the twenty-third anyway, so that's perfect."

Setting several pints on the bar between them, Emma found it hard to stop glancing over at him but was pleased to find that neither of them could stop smiling either. So as she finished pouring their drinks, she and Killian picked up half each, and then went over so he could join his coworkers.

* * *

Four days later, Emma's bright yellow car pulled up outside her parent's home. It wasn't as quaint as her last car, but it had the added benefit of both front and back doors, which had been ideal when she made the move to Camden from Boston. She hadn't been able to leave the color behind, though. Maybe she would one day return to the good ol' beetle after Henry moved out. Probably so, if only for the nostalgia factor.

The three of them climbed out of the car, overnight bags in hand. Henry would be staying longer, as Emma and Killian had to return to work the day after Christmas, so his bag was bigger than the one they had decided to share, and had to be removed from the trunk like their wrapped gifts. Killian had been clever enough to wrap his in boxes rather than bags, as Emma knew her family were pretty bad about not peeking.

Henry raced up to the door, going straight in, and Emma rolled her eyes a little as she picked up the heavy bag of gifts, swinging it onto her shoulder as she and Killian followed him up the stairs of the porch.

"Henry!" Mary Margaret greeted brightly, pulling him into a hug before he could even set his things down. As she released him and David walked into the entryway to meet them, Emma set the gift bag down at the doorway that let to the living room and the tree. She stopped to hug her father, and once Killian was properly greeted as well and coats were hung in the closet, Emma took his hand.

David led Henry and Mary Margaret into the kitchen, but Emma held Killian back. There was something they should've worked out already, but she had just been too anxious to bring it up before. Apparently, he must have been as well. "So... They've got two spare rooms. They bought this place after I had Henry, so they wanted us to be able to have holidays like this. But, that does mean that Dad will probably relegate you to the couch."

"That's fine, Emma," he said, chuckling. His fingers threaded gently through the hair just behind and above her ear as he leaned down the short distance to press his lips to hers. She smiled a little, though not enough to accidentally break the kiss, and the hand that wasn't still holding Killian's curled into the fabric of his shirt. It was sweet more than anything, and a sort of physical confirmation that he accepted the boundaries she – and her parents – had set. With Henry to consider as well, they hadn't been overly concerned with reaching any particular physical milestones. Not that they hadn't slowly gotten closer, of course.

He clearly understood her caution, and the fact that she had been hurt enough in the past to be nervous about letting him reach those points with her. And it just made Emma realize how many things about him made her feel grateful.

A throat cleared in the arched opening to the next room and the pair of them jumped. David, of course. Killian's chin whipped towards her father, but Emma sighed, looking at him for a moment before doing the same.

"You two joining us for dinner?" he asked blandly.

Patting Killian's arm, she strode over and joined her dad. "Easy," she requested under her breath. "He's one of the good ones." Then she passed by him completely to help her mother move things to the table.

Dinner went so well that Emma found herself leaning against Killian's shoulder to keep herself upright as laughter poured out of them all. He seemed relaxed as well, and that was practically a minor miracle, considering her father. But by the end of it, even David looked happy. After the meal, traditionally, was the decorating of the tree. Things were different this year, with Killian there. It took Emma a while to get past her embarrassment at their other big requirement when it came to hanging ornaments: the singing.

Whatever came on the radio, that was the playlist, and it was the one exception to Emma's whole 'no dancing' rule. Usually, anyway. This year, it took Henry stopping mid-song to frown at her disapprovingly.

"Mom," he complained, "what's wrong?"

Emma blinked, working to cover it up. "Nothing's wrong, kid."

He gestured towards his grandparents, who were apparently unconcerned by what Killian might think of their celebrations. David was hanging things on the upper branches on one side while Mary Margaret took the lower, and both were grooving, albeit rather mildly, to the radio.

"What's this, now?" Killian asked, stepping over to stand alongside them.

"I don't know," Henry replied, his gaze wary towards his mother before he went back to the boxes of ornaments resting opposite the fireplace.

Killian's hand found the small of her back. "Lass?"

"Um," she began, cheeks red as her hand reached up to push back one of her curls from her face. "I think he's upset that I'm not as... enthusiastic as normal."

She shouldn't have been surprised when his expression turned to concern and he shifted to face her sort of perpendicularly. "Why aren't you?"

Emma glanced up at him beneath her lashes before shrugging and letting herself meet his eyes normally. She was brave, or had been once. She could be honest about it, especially with him. "It's just embarrassing. In front of you, I mean."

Although the radio was on and the other three were talking or singing along, it almost felt... still, for a moment. Quiet. "I see," he mused quietly, eyes locked on hers. Her eyes narrowed slightly in question, but he finally nodded, then turned away with a gentle twitch of his lips upward. Whatever he was up to, Killian was trying hard to hide it.

It wasn't until the radio turned up quite suddenly that everybody else turned to blink at him. "Killian?" Emma asked cautiously.

"You said Henry wanted everyone to have more fun," he replied, a smirk slowly working its way across his face. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother sigh in a way that was way too charmed for him not having done anything yet. Mary Margaret stopped to lean against her husband, and Henry came around from behind the tree, eager and curious. When Killian walked back over, practically sauntering, he stuck a hand out towards Emma.

She moved automatically, though once she realized she was extending a hand in return she slowed, almost unsure. What was that thing he'd said? Something about how dancing was simple with the right partner? Slowly, as her fingers finally brushed across his palm, she broke out into a smile.

"See?" Henry blurted, "I told you he needed to be here."

Emma and Killian glanced over, confused, but he wasn't talking to them. Instead, he was smirking at his grandparents. Emma met her mother's eyes, and suddenly Mary Margaret was jumping into action, pulling David and Henry out of the room with promises of hot chocolate and Christmas cookies.

"Not very subtle, is she?" Killian asked quietly, once they'd left.

She shook her head, smiling giddily for once. Although she just about tripped when he drew her in, Emma managed to keep from closing herself off and instead let herself imagine that the song on the radio wasn't severely useless for dancing, which she supposed he would appreciate. With one hand in his, she lifted the other to his shoulder and he reached around to the middle of her back, using those fingers and his shoulders to guide her into slow, easy steps.

He led her with ease despite the situation and proximity of her parents, both of which tried to nag at her. But in truth, she couldn't keep it up for long. Her hand was sneaking up into the hair at the nape of his neck, and the space between them just kept getting smaller. Until finally, she took her hand from his and slid that arm around his neck as well. From the kitchen, she heard Henry's announcement that it was midnight.

She slowed them to a stop at the sound of it, lifting up onto her toes in a moment of contentment and spontaneity to whisper, "Merry Christmas, Killian."

Those blue eyes of his dropped for just a second before jumping back to her green ones. "Merry Christmas, love," he murmured back. And then they shared a tender, slow kiss as the first notes of a new song lent themselves to the atmosphere.

Perhaps she shouldn't have thought it, but it did register that this might be the first of many holidays shared with him. Emma pulled away first, only to grin and leave a tiny peck at the corner of his mouth. "C'mon," she urged, taking his hand with a spring in her step, "I'd kill for some of Mom's hot cocoa."

* * *

 **A/N: I couldn't resist touching on my dance teaching background. Haha. Prepare for a wee bit of a time jump during the next chapter; We're getting into what I'm calling Act 2. Lol. Anyway, hopefully you'll go with me on the new part of the journey and still enjoy it as much.**

 **Much love,**

 **Avery**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Once more, I must ask that you suspend your disbelief a bit, because I've changed Emma's birthday like I did with Henry's. But it being an AU, hopefully that can be ignored/forgiven.**

* * *

Christmas morning, as one might have hoped, went over well. They didn't see or hear anything from Gold, which was mildly confusing, but upon returning home, Emma found an envelope pushed under her door with a check inside. She didn't know if it was a sign that she'd insulted him or that she just reminded her too much of her son; either way she was a little disconcerted.

She didn't see him before New Year's, and even then Gold was all but missing, though he apparently did call to talk to Henry while he was at his grandparents'. How he knew when that was, Emma couldn't have said. He always seemed to have a sense about things like that, though, so apart from the Christmas incident, she actually didn't think much of it. And Henry didn't seem concerned, so she supposed it was shame or anger directed at her, and tried to let it go.

By mid-January, Killian was a staple in Emma's daily schedule. If he didn't come by the bar or the house, she would go to his office. Or, if none of those things happened, she felt silly for her disappointment and for wishing he had been around. In many ways, it was like when Henry was with his grandparents and she was home alone.

That happened a lot less often as of late, though. The being alone thing, that is. She was glad for it, and sometimes she got the impression that Henry was happy about it, too. He often was caught watching her, even without Killian there, only to shake his head and deny that anything had being running through his head.

February brought with it the completely arbitrary holiday of Valentine's, which Emma thought was ridiculous and built to made money, but for which she always caved when it came to buying Henry chocolate. This year, however, brought with it a change (however unsurprisingly). Killian made good on his promise to take her to that dance club down south, and it didn't matter that she thought the day was silly. He made it more about them, which was about as much as she could've asked for.

To be fair, she did suggest they pick a different day the next year to avoid traffic. But she found she didn't mind either way.

March brought Spring Break for Henry, and she had promised a trip to New York. They went during the week and used the weekends to drive there and back, but Emma couldn't keep herself from staying in touch with Killian back in Camden. The first picture she sent of them felt silly, but he sent one back and from then onwards it simply became casual and fun. Henry loved the museums, which she had expected, but surprisingly he also enjoyed the performers on the subways. She certainly hadn't expected that.

Upon returning home, Henry was insistent upon spending time with his friends from school, so she took the opportunity to surprise Killian for dinner out.

But a month later, the real surprise came. Not one to make a fuss over her own birthday, Emma was shocked to find that Henry had given Killian a heads up. She was woken one Saturday by footsteps and rattling in the kitchen, far earlier than she would have liked. But what was confusing, actually, was the fact that she thought she heard multiple people moving about. And then a loud gasp, clatter, and poorly-quieted apologies.

She threw back the covers, slipped on a light robe over her pajamas, and moved out into the front rooms.

"Mom!" Henry cried straight away, his tone chiding.

Emma stopped short, blinking in shock. Henry was absolutely _covered_ in flour, and behind him stood a red-eared and shy Killian. "What the hell?" she asked, looking between the two of them and then around her messy countertops.

Henry groaned, reaching for a towel to wipe himself off. "You were supposed to stay in bed," he complained.

"Well how can I when you're making such a racket out here?"

He pouted, likely knowing that in doing so he would get exactly what he wanted. Emma sighed, stepping forward to help brush off his shoulders.

"Apologies, love," Killian offered finally, looking somewhere between embarrassed and disappointed that they'd spoiled the surprise. "The lad wanted to do something special for you. I didn't mean to ruin your kitchen."

Finally, she broke out into a smile, leaning down to hug her boy. He allowed it for a time before he wriggled away to wash his hands and get back to work. She looked after him fondly before turning to check Killian for traces of flour. He was clean of them, though, so she stepped forward into his arms. His hands slid around to the small of her back.

"Happy birthday, Emma."

She lifted up to murmur her thanks against his lips, kissing him firmly – at least, until Henry grumbled out an "eww" under his breath. Killian chuckled but pulled away, swatting just lightly at her backside to shoo her back out of the room.

"Go on, lass. Let the boy have his fun."

Emma gave in, only partially reluctantly, and went to dress nicely enough that they could take pictures and go out to meet her parents later on in the day. By the time she finished up, her boys were nearly done setting the table. But she knew better than to return to the kitchen until they were ready. She'd just leaned over the couch to pick up the remote when there was a knock at the door.

"Got it," she called towards the kitchen.

She dropped the remote back down and went to open it, a side smile on her face at the understanding that Henry had gone so far out of his way that she really shouldn't have been surprised by yet another visitor.

Her fingers found the handle, pulling it towards her, and although she noticed the flowers first, it was the person holding them that made her stop breathing.

"Hello, Emma."

Her mouth, she realized, had fallen open in pure shock. Why today? Not today of all days. Not now. She shook her head, anger flushing her skin. Finally, her mouth snapped shut, only for her to open it again to tell him off.

But Neal held a hand up. "I got back from my assignment and they said you'd written about me. I decided I couldn't stay anymore; I needed to see you. To meet Henry."

That riled her up properly, making her grip the edge of the door tightly in an unconscious need to block him from entry. When she finally responded, her voice was barely even a whisper, and was probably the harshest she had spoken in months.

"How dare you," Emma hissed. "Ten years later and you think- you think _flowers_ and some excuse about us suddenly being more important and that it would be fine?"

"Emma?" Killian called from the kitchen. She glanced over, bracing the door even more tightly in case Neal tried to peer around it.

"Stay there," she told him firmly, shaking her head. From the next room, she watched his jaw clench, arms crossing over his chest. Did he know who it was? As long as he kept Henry away for now, she didn't care yet. Emma turned back to Neal, eyes wide and condemning. "You need to leave. Now."

He frowned, anger flashing across his face. But then he dug into his pocket, pulling out a business card to hand to her. She squinted down at it as he pushed it into her free hand, wondering when he had actually started carrying such a thing. It wasn't like him at all.

Neal also extended his hand, pressing the flowers into her arms. "I want to meet my son. Call me and let me know when and where."

Rather than responding, Emma slammed the door in his face.

"Emma," Killian started immediately, eyeing her warily. So he'd definitely heard.

She shot him a look that must have made him nervous, because he stepped out of her way as she stormed into the kitchen, shoving the flowers into the trashcan and squishing them so she couldn't see any sticking out of the top.

"Mom? What's wrong with the flowers?"

"Nothing," she said, perhaps a bit too sharply. When she looked around, both of them were just watching her, obviously anxious. "I- … We need to talk, Henry. Why don't we sit down? We should eat before it gets cold."

Henry looked a bit frightened, which saddened her, but it was Killian whose reaction was confusing. He lingered in the doorway, and Emma realized then that he looked put out more than just concerned. That, she felt straight away, was entirely unfair. So she sighed, knowing she needed to deal with him before she could handle explaining things to Henry.

"Give us a minute," she told her son, grabbing Killian's sleeve and pulling him down the hall to her room, shutting the door behind them.

He crossed his arms again once she released him, a defense mechanism kicking in for him as well as for her. Only, Emma's was a desire to shut people out, not to reach out for help. But this was Killian, and she had come to rely on him so much that she didn't actually know whether she could handle Neal without him, now.

"What, then?" he asked, just watching her.

Emma's lips turned downwards, her weight shifting as she took a little step towards him. "I don't understand what's wrong. Why are you upset? I- I sent him away."

"You waited ten years for him, Emma. Ten. That's-" he faltered, his body stilling as he held back his obvious discomfort. "You loved him long after he left, and it's only been a few months, now. And he decides to come back _now?_ What if-"

"Killian," she cut in, reaching forward for his upper arms. "I didn't know how to move on. I looked at Henry every day and I didn't want him to hate me. For losing Neal or choosing someone else or- Killian, I didn't really want to move on.. until I met you."

The admission scared her into silence, and Emma tore her gaze away, backing against the closed door. It was quiet for a moment, and they both seemed to be waiting for something. But then he broke forward, gathering her into his arms. Against her ear, he asked the big question. "Do you want me involved with this?"

Emma tucked herself into his neck. "No, I _need_ you to help. But it depends on Henry."

"Aye. Then let's get back out there."

She nodded, pulling away to open the door, only to find Henry standing there, waiting for them. "Mom?" he asked, devastation pulling at his features.

"Oh, kid," she breathed, crouching down to brush her hands over his hair. "What did you hear?"

"My dad's here?"

Emma closed her eyes, letting loose an anxious sigh. "Yeah, Henry. He is. He found out that I wrote to ask about him. I'd thought... I thought maybe he'd died. Clearly not, of course, and they told me so. Remember? The day Killian came over to make dinner that first time?"

Henry looked up at Killian, a man Emma knew he had come to respect and rely on as well. Maybe not in the same way, precisely, but that hardly mattered. Henry trusted him, she knew that much. And now, he stood there, still and solid and sure, his hands in his trouser pockets almost casually. As if he thought nothing could go wrong.

"I remember," Henry confirmed. "But why is he here, now?"

"I'm not entirely sure. He... I know he wants to meet you, but-"

"No!"

Henry backed away, shocking Emma to her feet and back a little into Killian's chest. "What?" she asked, brow furrowing.

"I don't want to meet him."

Killian's hand slid down her arm to tangle with her own, but Emma was still watching her son. "Do you want to tell me why?"

He shrugged a little. "Can we eat while I do?"

That brought out a little smile from both adults, so of course she nodded and they followed him back to the kitchen. Emma tried to pretend that her eyes weren't drawn to the trashcan in irritation, but it simply couldn't be helped. Killian's hand found hers again, though, grounding her. So after a few quiet moments, she turned her attention on Henry, waiting as patiently as she could manage.

He caved about halfway through a pancake. "He left before he even met me. Why should I have to meet him?"

Emma nodded again, this time more slowly and with genuine understanding. She knew what it was like to think her parents didn't want her, even when they really had. But Neal just hadn't cared enough to try. "You don't have to if you don't want to. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Whether you did or not."

"No thank you."

Killian squeezed her hand, drawing her gaze. Emma tilted her head in question. "What if you could see him, Henry, but he didn't know who you are. Would you like to know, then?"

"How?" Henry asked, curious despite himself.

"Well, what if your mum went to meet him for lunch, and then you and I sat a few tables over, just us? He'd never need to know who you are."

Emma stared at Killian, wondering if she'd ever truly be able to piece together how clever he was, or how far he seemed to go out of his way for them. It was then that she decided she needed to do more, for him. That she ought to make him work less for her affectionate words and reassurances. He deserved them, and so much more.

"What do you think, Henry?" she asked.

"Yeah, okay."

He glanced over at Killian before returning to his food, but Emma could only watch him, hopeful that she wasn't about to break her poor son's heart, somehow. She leaned to the left, sinking into Killian's side as she lifted her drink to her lips.

"Okay."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I'm so glad that we're getting into this part of the story, now. Somehow, when planning it out, it kinda seemed like I would never reach this point but it's been loads of fun, already! I know the last chapter's surprise was probably a shock, but this part of her and Neal's relationship needs to be sorted out if she wants to get closure – especially for Henry! And as you lovely reviewers pointed out, it gives Killian an opportunity to truly be there for her as he always is on the show.**

 **Did y'all see the news? Everybody's coming back for the series finale! YAY. I can always use more of the OG's, haha. And for those of you who don't know, Jen is going to be in a reboot of Superfly this summer. She's playing a detective so I'm super curious. The trailer looks amaaaazing.**

* * *

She should have just called him. Emma knew that. But if she was going to spend her birthday with _Neal_ of all people, then surely she couldn't be blamed for sending a cursory, admittedly cold text with a time and the name of their go-to diner. She called her parents, telling them what had happened and asking them to push their meal to that evening, at their house. At least they wouldn't be out in the open if she got into a fight with Neal. And if Henry didn't want to see him, Neal wouldn't be showing up at her apartment again in search of him.

For a moment, she wondered how he'd known where she was, but she could only presume that his father had given Neal the address.

So as Henry went to get dressed, Emma and Killian worked to clean up the dishes and the kitchen counters. She realized about halfway through Killian drying a plate that she was being clingy. It was drawn, she knew, from a desire to assure him that she wouldn't come out of lunch having changed her mind about him, or about Neal. Henry had been right, of course. Neal hadn't bothered, with either of them. And as much as she didn't enjoy reliving that conversation in the car on the way to pick up Killian from work months earlier, she could obviously admit that her son made excellent points.

She reached out, taking the plate from him and setting it back on the drying rack. Killian lifted an eyebrow at her, but she just took his hands, pulling his arms around her waist so she could press her cheek against his chest.

"You'll be okay, lass. And Henry's strong. It'll work out."

Emma shrugged, but leaned back to look up at him. "I mean, I hope so. But you know we're good, right? You and me? It doesn't matter what he says, it really doesn't."

Killian's gaze searched her face, his silence making her nervous. It was all she could do not to push him, but she knew that if he decided it was too much, she would find a way to go back to her old self. It was the sort of thing that she knew would worry people, because she so often found it easier to shut down than to show and express her hurt.

"Emma," he said finally, tone reluctant and unsure. She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms in what she hoped was a soothing gesture. "I don't know if I should say this, really, but I- I hope you know that I intend to be there for you and Henry, regardless of what happens with Neal."

"I know," she agreed, nodding gently. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Killian. Truly."

He leaned forward to kiss her, but it was strictly appropriate, and he pulled away to brush a hand over her cheek. "We'll meet you back at your parents' if Henry wants to leave before you're done. Okay?"

She nodded, stepping away to wash the last dish. "You guys should head out. Can you go get him?"

"Of course, love."

Soon after, she was hugging Henry a little too tightly, kissing the top of his head before bidding her boys goodbye and telling them to drive safely. She would leave in ten minutes, she'd decided, which gave her time to stress and then calm herself down again. But this time she slid on that red leather jacket she felt so safe in, which made her feel more in control somehow.

And then she made her way to the diner, walking in precisely when she said she would to make sure she didn't seem eager, but rather just too polite to be late. Casting her eyes around, she caught sight of Killian and Henry drinking hot cocoa, and though she couldn't see Killian's face to know why, her son was actually smiling. It did something funny to her heart, which clenched without warning.

But then she saw someone stand up to her left. Neal.

Emma lifted her chin a little, ignoring the fact that she saw Henry suddenly pay more attention, watching her. It was lucky Neal's back was to them, otherwise he probably would've caught on. She walked over, making sure to sit on the side facing them just in case.

"Thanks for agreeing to do this," he began. "Happy birthday, by the way."

She nodded, looking over towards the counter, behind which Granny Lucas was bustling about, casting curious glances at her granddaughter's best friend and the stranger she'd chosen to dine with.

"Yeah, well. I owe it to my family," she told him. "And to myself."

He frowned, but seemingly knew better than to come out swinging with some long-winded explanation. Emma nearly wanted to appreciate that choice. Instead, she just pushed the menu towards the edge of the table a silent signal to the waitstaff she'd come to know so well, and kept on.

"I don't understand, Neal. Why now? Why, after ten years, do you suddenly want to be involved? You stopped writing, you said you'd come back and visit, but you never did."

In truth, she was proud of herself for sounding so strong and put-together despite the roaring anger and hurt flooding through her veins.

He lifted one shoulder apologetically. "After a while I got... caught up, with work. And when I took longer and longer to send you letters back, I thought you'd be angry."

"... Angry," she repeated blankly. But then her frustration slipped through, kicking her temper (visibly, at any rate) up a notch. "Angry? You know what makes me _angry,_ Neal? That your own son knows you couldn't be bothered. That you thought being delayed was worse than hearing nothing at all. That now that I _finally_ have something _good_ you decide it's time to show up and ruin it. What's wrong with you?"

"Something good? You mean that guy you're living with?"

"He doesn't live with me," she told him firmly. "But you should be thanking him. He's been incredible with the son you left behind. The one you couldn't spare time to meet. I understand wanting the career of your dreams and all, but it's one thing to be gone part of the year and another entirely to vanish, leaving promises that turn out to mean nothing. You didn't just break my heart, Neal. You broke his, too."

He had the courtesy to look ashamed, but there was still something angry in his eyes. Emma recognized it for what it was: bitterness. She'd caught countless people who thought they'd managed to get what they wanted, only to be proven wrong. Men and women who figured an apology made things right when really that wasn't always enough. Not for something like this, certainly.

It was then, almost mercifully, that the server came over to take their order. Foregoing food, of course, she also went for a hot chocolate (with cinnamon) and waited for Neal to order before giving the waitress a solid attempt at a smile.

"I want to see him," he told her again.

"Yeah? I told him that and he said he doesn't want to see you. That's not your choice, it's his. In time he might change his mind, but until he's eighteen, I am his legal guardian. His _only_ parent. And until he says he wants to know you, you have no right to demand it of him."

"Don't I? I'm his father!"

Emma's eyes narrowed dangerously as she leaned forward onto the table. "There is a difference between a dad and a father. You may have helped bring him into this world, but that's nothing compared to the work it takes to raise a child."

"And your new guy is so great?" Neal challenged, glaring right back.

"He is, actually. But he isn't low enough to try and replace you. That's Henry's choice as well, not his or mine. And certainly not yours."

He was getting pretty red-faced, now, clearly angry and frustrated. "I have a right to at least see him. To meet him."

"He already said no. I offered, and he panicked, Neal. He's too scared right now. Don't make things worse for him, I mean it. He will never forgive you."

"And how do I know you're not just saying all this to keep me away?"

Emma lifted her hand as their waitress passed by again. "Sorry, could you bring our drinks to-go? He has to leave," she told them, her eyes daring Neal to argue. He apparently knew better.

As Emma watched her walk away, she reminded herself not to let her attention linger on Henry and Killian. Even with the way her temper was flaring, her boys were still there. She didn't look long enough to read her son's face, but she wasn't sure if she liked that he was seeing her like this. She needed to rein herself in, if only for his sake.

"Fine," Neal muttered. "I'll leave. But I'm not letting this go, Emma."

"Don't test me," she warned him. "You'll only ruin the chance of him developing a positive opinion of you."

He scoffed, leaning back in the booth. "Right, because you've made sure he already has a negative one?"

"He knows he doesn't have to share my opinion of you."

Drinks were sat down in front of them, and Emma immediately pulled out her wallet to cover them in hopes of just getting rid of him.

"Bye, Neal," she muttered, snatching her cup and walking over to the bar under the guise of talking to Granny.

"Who's that?" the older woman asked, leaning over the counter as Emma slid onto a barstool.

Emma frowned. "Is he still there?"

Granny's eyes followed something towards the door before she shook her head. Good.

"That's Gold's son. Unfortunately, he's also my ex," she grumbled into the opening on the lip of her cup. She lifted her eyes to Granny's as if to say, _Yeah, yeah, I know..._

"Well. That's certainly something," Granny mused.

It was then that she realized Henry was climbing onto a chair next to her, Killian coming up between them. "You alright, love?" His eyes shifted to the door, perhaps preparing himself to come up with some excuse for being so near to her with a little boy that looked so like her.

She nodded but looked towards the door, too. Neal didn't seem to be waiting outside, but she didn't want to risk it. "Yeah, for now. He's not giving up, though."

Henry leaned to the side to look at her around Killian, his eyes wide. "I don't want-"

"I know, kid. We'll figure something out. I promise."

"We should go, lass."

Emma nodded, reaching out for Henry's hand. "Go ahead. I'll meet you at their house. I know it's hard, but try and look cheerful when you go out, okay? Just in case. And when we get there, I swear to you we'll sit and talk about it as long as you want. Deal?"

Henry agreed, so as he hopped back down, Killian gestured for the boy to go first. Emma met his gaze for a long moment before Killian gave both her and Granny a polite nod, turning to follow.

To pass the time, brief though it was in actuality, Emma and Granny talked about Ruby's continued interest in that doctor Emma hadn't liked when she met him. But when she glanced at her watch for the tenth time, the elderly woman reached across, stilling the rotation of Emma's hand.

"If he comes around asking questions, I won't tell him anything. Just so you know."

"It's not you I'm worried about," she sighed. "His dad knows everything about everything, doesn't he?"

Granny nodded solemnly. "Just about, yes."

Emma ran a hand through her hair, the gesture an old, lost one from more stressful times. "I just... I can't see a way to keep him away from Henry. If he'd come back at Spring Break, we'd have been out of town. And, I mean, the fact that Killian's even sticking around for any of this is insane."

"Don't knock it," Granny warned. "That man's a good one, even if Gold's son isn't."

"I know."

If she weren't about to head to her parents' to meet them, she might have asked Granny to make an exception and pour her something stronger than hot chocolate. Or, even better, to add something to the drink she already had. But she knew better, and although something like that would not impair her driving, she felt a desperation to stay alert and on top of her game.

"I should go," she decided finally.

The two women bid each other farewell, promising to talk more often, as they hadn't done so of late. And then Emma walked out to her car, waiting for the prickle along her neck or for her hair to stand up on her arm. Neither happened, so she had to hope Neal was long gone, if only for the time being.

Bitterly, she wished he weren't as stubborn about Henry as he was about staying away. But it didn't seem like she was going to see that desire realized, birthday or not.


End file.
